


A Story of New Beginnings: Prophesies Fulfilled & History Repeated

by shaylaberries



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), More fandoms to be added
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 125,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaylaberries/pseuds/shaylaberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Robert Baratheon dies at the Trident<br/>Lyanna survives childbirth<br/>Jon becomes Rhaegar's heir</p><p>Warning there are a few canon characters missing and there are lots of original characters but this is an AU people so things happened differently. Please leave comments, all criticism is welcome :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lyanna I

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I own none of this. The masterpiece that is ASOIAF is the creation of the genius that is G R R Martin

Lyanna Stark - 283 AL the border of the Crownlands and the Reach

The journey to King's Landing from Dorne had been a grim one. It had become apparent to her that the small folk and banner men alike loathed her; they looked as though the very sight of her caused them pain. _’I'm the wolf-whore to them’_ , the internal thought shamed and saddened her more, if such a thing were even possible. The castles and landscape were no better; the whole of Westeros was littered with the dead of war. _’The war you caused’_ and the tears that had come unbidden started burning in the back of her eyes again.

"Your grace?" a deep voice rasped out of what she thought was silence.

She turned her attention to the white knight atop his just as white dornish steed. Ser Arthur Dayne was the very essence of what it meant to be a knight of the King's Guard; honourable, valiant, brave, a protector of justice and above all he served his King with no objections - and yet even he couldn't bear to truly look at her anymore.

"I hoped we were past titles Arthur" she replied with a smile, trying to sound reassuring.

He shuffled in his saddle uncomfortably for a moment before he replied with a resigned tone, "Lyanna, you shouldn't be riding your own horse."

"I'm a woman of the north Arthur, we ride horses better than any southron man" she scoffed

"Yes but you are a woman Lyanna" he argued with a hint of frustration "and you have only just given birth not two moons ago. Regardless of how strong you used to be your body betrays your spirit now" he gestured to her saddle and she paled when she saw the blood that covered it.

He was right of course. Jon's birth had been a traumatic experience for her, she very nearly died and was unconscious for the week following. She was still bleeding now even though it has been almost eight weeks since Jon came into the world bloody and screaming. Arthur gracefully dismounted from his horse in front of her in one fluid practiced movement and reached for her reins to lead them back to the cart.

"Thank you Arthur, you have been so kind" her voice was hopeful for she hoped she could reach him; the him she had known before everything went so wrong, the him who accepted her relationship with Rhaegar even though she could tell Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell both silently disapproved, the him who had been a comfort to her in times of loneliness and pain. She did not reach him though, that him was dead and she couldn't help but feel it was all her fault.

"It's my duty to protect you my lady" he replied coolly. He reached up to take her from the horse but she swatted his hands away with a disgusted look

"I am no invalid Arthur!" she snapped, as she began to dismount from her horse. Both her feet landed on the ground at the same time, it seemed to be a perfect dismount but her knees gave way underneath her weight and she crashed to the ground in a heap.

"Are you not?" he jested with a slight smile. Normally she would have been enraged at his audacity but it warmed her to see a bit of the old Arthur again, even if it was just for a second. She allowed him to hoist her to her feet and help her into the cart where Wylla was cradling her recently woken son. She nodded to Arthur in a way that both thanked and dismissed him and turned her full attention to her small bundle of joy.

"Is he feeding well Wylla?" she whispered to the wet nurse who was tucking her teat back into her shift

"Yes mi'lady" she answered with a slight bow

"If he is done, give him to me please" she half asks. She doesn't understand why she's asking this woman to give her, her own son but seeing as it's been her that's been feeding Jon since his birth she has some sort of respect and affection for Wylla and feels an urge to ask instead of demand like the wild woman inside her would have.

The wet nurse hands Jon to her carefully and coos at him as he begins to whimper. _’He is a stark’_ she thinks to herself for the hundredth time as she gazes down at her babe. His skin as alabaster as hers, hair the same deep brown as all the men in her family and eyes as grey as the snarling direwolf of her house sigils’.

"You're father wanted a third dragon but it seems I've given him a lone wolf instead" she admitted to him. She felt the familiar stab of guilt she always felt whenever she thought of how Jon is Rhaegar's third child but the only one left alive. She tried to banish the thoughts of sweet Elia Martell and her two children from her mind but like all the ghosts that plagued her they would return to haunt her in her dreams. With tears in her eyes she lay down with her babe, synchronizing her breathing to his, praying sleep will take them both to a dreamless place. They will arrive in King's Landing on the morrow and she will need all the strength she can muster to face all those waiting for her return.


	2. Rhaegar I

Rhaegar Targaryen - 283 AL the Red Keep

Ruined. Maegor's Holdfast was completely and utterly ruined. His father in all his madness had sought to burn it to the ground when he thought the usurper was upon him. _’My daughter, my son, my wife, my mother, my brother and our unborn sibling gone. Madness has left me nothing but ashes.’_ He cried now, truly cried. He fell to his knees, wailed and spluttered and coughed until he felt weak and helpless. ‘Forgive me’ he sobbed again and again like a prayer through his tears, _’I failed you.’_

He hadn't heard Jon's footsteps coming. He didn't even hear him call his name ten, twenty times. He hadn't noticed Jon's presence at all until his hands were firmly holding his shoulders shaking him as if to wake him from some nightmare.

"Rhaegar" he pleaded "Come my friend, this part of the Keep is no longer safe"

This much was obvious. The walls crumbled around them and the floor threatened to give way beneath their feet but Rhaegar couldn't care less in this moment in time. His family was gone; all of them suffered the pain of death by fire because of him, because of his obsession with prophecies and his infatuation with his northern love. He buried his fingers deeper into the ashes beneath him hoping to feel a hand reaching for him to pull them free.

He heard his voice again, "Forgive me Rhaegar, this is for your own safety" and suddenly he was being lifted to his feet by what felt to be at least three pairs of hands. He desperately tried to grasp at the ashes and hold them close to his heart. "Leave me!" He begged "leave me!" He squirmed against them; trying to break free with every ounce of strength in his body, trying to stay in this moment of longing and mourning for as long as possible. He felt like nothing more than a petulant child as they carried him away; even though he was their Prince - no their King now, they still wouldn't listen to him. They only looked at him with pity as they took him away. The dreamwine that was forced down his throat took him instantly and he fell into a deep, much needed sleep.

_Oceans and oceans of sand. Red sand. He sees nothing in any direction but this red sand, and oh gods it's hot, so hot his lungs can hardly handle the burning of the dry air he inhaled. ‘Where in Sevens' Earth am I?’ he questioned himself out loud. He began staggering through the high dunes of this red desert and suddenly felt solid ground under his feet, cracked red earth and then -_

**_Laughter._**

_His eyes widened with hope as he turned a full circle searching **'I know that laugh!'** he prayed he was not hearing things that this was not just some trick of the mind but then he heard it again. There was no denying it; he had heard that sweet mischievous giggle a million times. He began running towards it, running desperately to reach the source of it. "Rhaenys! Where are you sunshine!?_ "

_"Papa?"_

_He turned around to see his precious daughter standing but an arms reach away from him. He moved towards her and she, moved backwards? **No**. She herself hadn't moved away from him, she herself hadn't moved at all? It was more like she was being pulled away by the wind and was completely oblivious to it. Confused he slowly moved towards her again and again until he was running after her faster and faster but no matter how fast he ran she somehow kept that arms-reach-away from him. Chasing her was getting him no where so he stopped, and just as he suspected she did too._

_"You found me papa!" she said in the innocent, gleeful way she always did when he would find her hiding under his bed. He desperately wanted to hold her; to touch her, to take her home with him but to his despair he couldn't reach her. **'Always an arms reach away'**_

_"Rhaenys sweetling, come to Papa" he said with a smile, holding out his arms to her so that she might embrace him but her face darkened and the innocence faded._

_She lifted her arms to him and sneered "Look at me Papa", a sly snakish smile spread wide across her face "I'm a dragon" and then suddenly she was consumed by green wild fire._

He awoke in a heart breaking panic. "Rhaenys!"


	3. Jon Connington I

Jon Connington - 283AL Tower of the Hand

He had never seen Rhaegar like this, but then Rhaegar had never experienced pain like this. It took alot for him to force his silver Prince to drink the dreamwine. While he had the aid of three of the King's Guard it was not the physical effort that took it's toll on him. He was battling internally with his own emotions. _’How could you do this to your Lord King, your friend!’_ he hissed to himself but he knew deep down it was for the best.

After the dreamwine had taken effect he had ordered the men to carry Rhaegar to the hand's tower, one of the only places in range of the Red Keep that was completely untouched by the devastation of the wildfire. He told them to handle the new King gently as he still suffered from a chest wound he had received from Robert Baratheon on the Trident. _’Fucking Usurper’_ he spat at the memory of the rebel who almost took his Prince. Had Jon not ignored his banishment from Westeros he would not have arrived at the Trident on time to save Rhaegar. Robert Baratheon loomed over the Prince with his mighty war hammer in hand about to smash it down on the defeated young dragonlord's chest when Jon drove his sword through Robert's back piercing his heart. Although Robert was dead his hammer was already in momentum and it crushed down on Rhaegar's breastplate; not half as hard as it would've been if it had Robert's full strength behind it, but still enough to leave Rhaegar bed ridden for the next few weeks.

It was in those few weeks that the King's madness truly surfaced. Everyone thought he couldn't get any worse than he was. He was already setting fire to the Lord Paramounts and their heirs, how much worse could it get? Unfortunately the answer was much worse. He believed Rhaegar was now riding in rebellion against him since Rhaegar had shown mercy to those who bent the knee. Aerys thought they were going to sack King's Landing and take his throne from him, so he set the throne room and Maegor's Holdfast ablaze with wildfire burning it and everyone in it to the ground. The fire almost devoured the entire Red Keep but thanks to the quick thinking of Maester Pycelle and the help of servants and smallfolk it was put out before it could do any damage to the rest of King's Landing. 

Rhaegar suddenly seemed unsettled in his sleep, muttering uncomprehendible drabble under his breath. Jon sat on the seat next to the bed to comfort him. _’No! To guard him’_ like he was supposed to. He wasn't some worried lover; this was his Lord King and best friend. At least that was the way Rhaegar felt anyway. Jon loved Rhaegar, as unnatural as it was it was true. Jon had always loved Rhaegar; had always wanted to be with him, wanted to be in his bed. _’No!’_ he would growl _’It's wrong!’_ He was snapped out of his sinful thoughts when Rhaegar started tossing furiously.

"Rhaenys!" he screamed tears falling rapidly from his tightly shut eyes.

"Your Grace.. Rhaegar!" Jon called trying to draw the man's attentions away from his nightmare "It's a dream my friend, just a dream" he reassured him when Rhaegar's dark lilac eyes meet his.

"Jon?" he asked, still in a wine induced daze "Where are we?"

"The hand's tower your grace, it's the safest most accommodating place for you to stay in the mean time" he answered although he didn't miss the slight wince Rhaegar made on hearing ‘Your Grace’. Jon couldn't help but smile to himself at that. ‘A King who never wanted to be King’ he muses.

"Where is Rhaenys? And Elia, where is Elia?" The last part of the question was impatient as though he expected her to be at his bedside not Jon. The thought made the green eyed demon awaken within him but it was quickly put back to sleep when he saw the pain swimming in those pale violet irises.

He took a deep breathe, and without any emotion or hesitation he simply stated "they're dead your grace. They both died in the wildfire that destroyed the Red Keep along with Ae -"

"Enough!" He roared, "enough." The tears that sat in his lash line made him look like the most tragically beautiful being Jon had even seen, like a fallen angel broken by his exile from the Heavens.

"I'm sorry Rhaegar" was all he could manage before he was silenced by a dismissive motion of Rhaegar's elegant hand

"Where is the Master of Coin?"

"Perished in the fire along with the Master of Laws and the Master of Ships" Jon says, again with no emotion or hesitation. He had been practicing this after all

"We will need to begin repairs and -" Jon already knew what his King was thinking so he interrupted

"You need to rest and heal first. Then we need to coronate you so you're truly King of the Iron Throne. Only after that can we go about the repairs of the kingdom. For now though, rest?" it comes out more of a plea than he intended. He doesn't want Rhaegar to see how he feels but the look on Rhaegar's face is that of defeat. He knew Jon was right, there was nothing he could do until he was crowned King and the Lord Paramounts of the other eight kingdoms had bent the knee to him and sworn fealty.

"Have you heard word from Lyanna?" he finally asked as he seemed to settle back into the bed becoming somewhat relaxed by the mention of her name. Jon could feel jealousy stirring inside him again. It wasn't the same as the jealousy he felt for Elia. No one understood what Elia was to Rhaegar like Jon did but the Stark girl seemed to have a place in his silver prince's heart that even his sun could not warm.

"They're due to reach King's Landing on the morrow Your Grace and both she and the babe are in good health"

"Jon" Rhaegar interjected with what sounded like a pang of disappointment and a melancholic look in his eyes

"Yes my friend?" Jon replied

"No, my son" and there was the tone of disappointment again "his name is Jon"

_"He named him for me?"_ Jon couldn't help that the blood rushed to his face as he blushed with hopeful pride. "It's a good name Your Grace" he jested and Rhaegar gave him an honest but forced smile in reply "but it's not the name you wanted?" Jon questioned

Rhaegar stared off into empty space, sighed and answered with the same tone of disappointment as before only now it was mixed with confusion "No it's not that, it's just that i thought Lyanna was carrying a girl, a Visenya" he looked back to Jon and gave him another forced but reassuring smile "but a Jon is just as good"

Normally it would be strange for a man to complain about siring a son instead of a daughter especially when he had lost his only heir but Jon had heard the silver prince's prophecies all before. The Prince who was promised, Azor Ahai come again would be his son and he along with his two sisters would bring light and hope to a world full of darkness and despair. He had his Rhaenys and his Aegon like he had always planned but he had hoped for a Visenya and instead received a Jon. Lord Griff suddenly understood the sound of failure and befuddlement in Rhaegar's voice. He had so whole-heartedly believed in his interpretation of the prophecy he had analyzed for years, and now much to his sorrow he had found that he was wrong. Jon decided to leave his friend to withdraw into his own world, when Rhaegar got into these melancholic states it's best to leave him to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are short but at the moment I'm just laying out the foundations to my AU. Please review :)


	4. Lyanna II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a disclaimer. I do not own any of the characters or settings in this fanfic. This is meerly an idea born from the brilliance of ASOIAF by G R R Martin

Lyanna Stark - 283 AL King's Landing

She couldn't help how her heart raced when he came into view, as much as she wanted to hate him she could not. Strange how the heart can love one so when every fibre of your being tells you to tear the flesh from their bones. Rhaegar waited patiently mounted upon his silver horse at the King's Gate with a small party of four men. He looked the perfect image of a Targaryen prince, if one ignored the sling over his left arm. His golden silver hair danced in the winds framing his perfectly structured face, if one ignored the melancholic expression that was always donned on it. Lyanna briefly wondered why he hadn't raced to her like she had dreamed he would upon their reunion. _’He's waiting for me to come to him, as usual’_ she bitterly concluded. As her cart drew nearer to the king's party she noticed how Rhaegar reached for Ser Arthur with a warm smile as means to greet his best of friends but he was met by a cold formality she had never seen in the Sword of the Morning before. Rhaegar's look of confusion, shock and sadness surely mirrored Lyanna's own as the knight simply guided his horse next to his sworn brothers and returned to his duties of standing guard over his King. It was reminiscent to that of a gargoyle returning to his mantle before the sun returned and turned him to stone. _’Why is he being so cold? This is not Arthur’_ Lyanna wondered helplessly. It was something she'd have to find out later.

"My Lady" a rich deep voice resonated. Lyanna looked up to see Rhaegar was now looking directly at her with a look of relief and happiness although it does not replace the sadness completely.

"Your Grace" she near spat. Rhaegar looked taken aback again. _’Good’_ she thought _’if I can still hurt him he's not dead to me yet’_

He searched her face for a few moments before bowing slightly and heading back to the front _’My Lady’, what the hells did he mean by ‘My Lady’? After all this time. Alfter all I've done for him. Am I not his ‘lady love’ when we are out of the bed sheets? Is he ashamed of me now?’_ the unwanted thoughts filled her head as they travelled slowly and quietly to the Keep. She remembered how he had discovered her at that blasted tourney at Harrenhal

_He had chased her through the woods for a good half hour. Lyanna was the best rider she knew of save Brandon but the prince had kept up far better than she had ever expected. The woods were unfamiliar to her so she had not seen the ditch coming. She fell from her saddle head first damaging the cheap iron helmet so much it would be rendered useless in concealing her identity now. Rhaegar had dismounted from his horse and was making his way down the ditch sword in hand when he saw her. He stared at her for minutes that felt almost like hours. His gaze was intense as though he was silently asking her all the answers to the universe. When suddenly he seemed to snap out of his daze; he returned his sword to it's sheath and slowly made his way closer to her, hands above his head as if to show her he was completely harmless._

_"Do not be afraid my lady. I have no intentions of returning you to my lord father."_

_"Then what are your intentions, Your Grace?" she noticed how he flinched at the title but masked it well enough_

_"I intend to take back your shield and say I lost you. I never saw your face nor do I have any further clues as to your true identity"_

_"Why?!" she asked surprised that he did not want to see her head on a spike after all she had dishonoured a sacred tradition among men_

_"Because my Lady" he huffed almost resignedly "I’ve always been fond of warrior Queens" and with that he picked up her shield and left._

_Later he would crown her his Queen of Love and Beauty but she knew what kind of Queen he was truly crowning her._

She was quickly snapped out of her memories when the pungent smell of burnt flesh, faeces and ash filled her nostrils. _’My Gods. This is the Red Keep?’_ Lyanna had never seen the castle before but she knew that this was not what it was meant to be. The ruins were black and grey with ash; debris and rubble that were once sturdy walls were piled in mountainous heaps, charred and crushed bones of nameless men and women littered the ground buried here and there under the wreckage, shattered glass and iron lay everywhere bits of which had melted to the earth. What remained of the Keep creaked and moaned as if it were in pain from the damage that's been done to it, as if it were echoing the cries of the victims that lay dead in it's ruin.

When they finally reached the Tower of the Hand Rhaegar dismissed the rest of the company leaving only himself, Jon Connington, Lyanna, Wylla and baby Jon. Lyanna had noticed how Rhaegar had barely looked at Jon since they arrived. It had been a blow to her ego that he had not rushed to her how she had wanted but it crushed her heart to see him be so distant and cold to his own son, his _only_ son.

"I must thank you for your services my lady but if you would please excuse us I would like to be alone now with Lady Lyanna and the babe. Lord Jon will take you to your chambers. I'm afraid we haven't got the staff to see you settled in properly as you can see the staff that remain have much work to do but please do make yourself comfortable Lady?" Rhaegar gestured to the wet-nurse that was holding Jon

"Uh, Wylla.. Your Grace" she stammered, blushing furiously at the acknowledgement of her King. Lyanna could hardly blame her; she knows what it's like to have his attentions. And suddenly she was craving for him again. _’This is just ridiculous Lya. Pull yourself together!’_ she internally chastened

"Jon please escort Lady Wylla to an appropriate chamber, see that she is fed and given clean clothes and bathing water" and with that Wylla was gently placing baby Jon into Lyanna's arms and Lord Griff quickly escorted her away

Lyanna had been looking down at Jon since Wylla had given him back to her and hadn't noticed that Rhaegar had been staring at her in that searching way he does "Lya?" he asked timidly in a hushed voice so as not to disturb their sleeping babe. She was so mad with him but the look of insecurity and longing on his face washed that all away

"Yes Rhaegar?" His answer was a kiss; a passionate and deep kiss. She yielded and opened her mouth to his as she always did and his tongue dipped slowly in to dance with hers. He wrapped his arm around her and began running his hand slowly down to the small of her back. She let out a quiet moan as he pressed harder into her lips. The wolf inside Lyanna was getting hungry however they were quickly interrupted by their poor son who had been woken by his parents near crushing him.

"Forgive me" Rhaegar murmured breathlessly directing his eyes firstly at Lyanna and then settling on Jon. Much to Lyanna's relief his expression warmed after gazing at Jon for awhile and then hesitantly he asked "May I hold him?"

"Of course silly" she scolded, although the smile on her face told him it was only playful teasing. Rhaegar gestured for her to place Jon in the crook of his right arm, Rhaegar cradled him carefully and securely there and began bopping up and down gently as if they were floating in a placid ocean of tiny waves. They looked beautiful; _her_ boys, _her_ family. When she had run away with Rhaegar all she had wanted was freedom. Rhaegar promised her in one of his many letters that he would never make her wed against her will; that he would give her the freedom to see Dorne and the Free Cities and then in time she could return to the North, where she belonged. That was before she fell in love; not with Rhaegar, her indecisive mind and heart could not tell her if she truly loved him although she knew there was a kind of love between them. She fell in love with the dark haired boy with Stark grey eyes that was born from her own body. Although she had lost so much and it pained her still to think of her father and her brother, her heart had mended and had been born anew the moment her eyes rested upon her sweet child's face. She may not truly have the freedom she had desired and she may still be deeply mourning for the losses she brought upon herself but Jon was her light in the dark, he made it all worth it.

Jon gurgled and cooed at his father, his chubby little hands trying to grasp hold of the silver tendrils dangling above his face. Rhaegar's smile was so bright it threatened to blind Lyanna as he beamed at their son. _Yes, for our son we can get past our pain_ she went to them kissed Rhaegar sweetly against the temple and leant her head against his left shoulder as he slowly swayed, _for our son we can do anything. Together we can do anything._ For the first time in so long Lyanna's mind felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if some of the editing isn't quite up to scratch. I am working on my grammar skills etc. Although I do hope that my speedy updates earn brownie points?
> 
> Thanks for reading :) and please review


	5. Rhaegar II

Rhaegar Targaryen - 283 AL Tower of the Hand

He watched from a bay window as Lyanna slept with their babe on his bed. She was so beautiful to him; her long fine brunette hair was fanned out across the pillows, her porcelain skin looked radiant and the light dusting of freckles only added to its perfection. True she was not the kind of beauty that caught the attention of every man; hers was a beauty that was wild and natural. As she herself was wild and natural.

Jon started to wake so Rhaegar went to pick him up. The sling that held his left arm only served as a hindrance so he threw it to the ground after much struggle, then lifted his son into the crook of his right arm. He ignored the pain that burned through his arm and chest; he had taken quite a blow from Robert Baratheon on the Trident and he was still yet to recover. _’Serves you right’_ his conscience would chasten _’you took his betrothed. You practically made him go to war against you and then you killed him. Kinslayer’_. The thoughts of Robert Baratheon often plagued Rhaegar, not as much as the many other ghosts that now haunt him but enough to keep the guilt fresh in his heart. Although they were not first cousins they were cousins none the less, kin, and Rhaegar had killed him. No matter whom you were; Wildling, Dothraki, Dornish or Lhazareen, the act of kinslaying was seen as the most heinous of crimes in the eyes of the Gods. A crime that he will be surely punished for.

The sound of the small babe in his arms gurgling tore him from his thoughts. Rhaegar studied him for what must be the hundredth time this very hour; he was perfectly formed, strong, and healthy and looked the very image of his mother. _Let us pray his mind - like his looks, is more Stark than Targaryen._ He shuddered at the common saying about Targaryens _’With the flip of a coin. Madness or brilliance.’_ For the first time since Rhaegar had seen Jon his eyes opened. _’Steel’_ Rhaegar mused; and then he saw the faintest flicker of a haunting violet, _’Dragonsteel’_ he corrected with a smile.

Although Rhaegar was still grief stricken by the loss of his sweet Rhaenys and his heir Aegon the Conqueror, his Prince Jon lessened the blow. _’Jon’_ he laughed _’not very Targaryen at all’_ he half jested at the thought, but then a seriousness sunk in. _’Good.’_ He decided then that no man would marry his sister; aunt or close enough relative to share a great-grandparent, from that day on. Incest had caused the madness in his family, he would allow it no longer. He had wondered once if dissolving the tradition would destroy the family line but then he thought of his sweet lady mother, Rhaella. She had suffered years of abuse at the hands of her own brother, her own husband, _his_ lord father. When he was young things were not so bad, his father had other vices mainly in the form of Lady Joanna Lannister lookalikes - huge emphasis on **lookalikes**. The real Lady of the Rock was a fierce, proud and loyal lioness, the only way she would ever bed with the Mad King was if she were a corpse. The most sickening thing was that Aerys probably would have delighted in Lady Joanna's limp and lifeless body - and scouring the globe for dragon eggs; pyromancers, oracles and all other walks of men who claim to have knowledge of magic long forgotten. After the Defiance of Duskendale that all changed. His father became a darker person, more recluse and unfortunately with time and the power to indulge in his sick interests he grew into a sadistically abusive monster. Lord Darklyn had rebelled and his mother had suffered for it. _And then history repeated itself_ tears began streaming down his face soaking the swathe that was wrapped snuggly around Jon. He thought of how his mother must have suffered from his father's perverse and cruel fantasies during Robert's Rebellion. He had heard how his father had roasted Lord Rickard alive in his armour and how loudly his mother screamed and pleaded for mercy that night from her bedchambers. _He had raped her. You let him rape her for too long._ The tears now gushed from his eyes as though the dam that had been holding them in had crumbled. _And then you let him kill her._ He was so mad with himself that he had not acted to protect his family sooner. He knew it was too late for his mother now but he would abolish the tradition in her memory, in her honour. He was trying to gain some composure when there was a knock on the door.

"Your Grace?" Griff's voice called through the thick oak door. 

Rhaegar wiped his face quickly of any tears "Enter." 

Jon looked at him in a way that spoke of both pity and affection. _He knows you've been crying._ Rhaegar couldn't help blushing at the memory of the spectacle he made of himself yesterday. Rhaegar was not at all opposed to a man expressing his emotions, it was just not like him to have outbursts such as that in public but then he did have good reason. 

"Your Grace" Jon hesitated slightly but continued "Lord Tywin has arrived in King's Landing. He's gone to see his son Ser Jaime, who is currently being treated by Maester Pycelle." 

"The Lannister boy lives!?" Rhaegar said a little too loudly, startling a sleeping Jon back to consciousness "Why did you not tell me sooner? Is he conscious? Does he know anything of Elia? Of the children?" The words coming out faster, sounding more desperate. 

Jon meerly shook his head "He knows nothing Your Grace, the boy was in the Black Cells during the fire. It's why he had survived." 

Crestfallen Rhaegar solemnly nodded in understanding. "My father put the boy in the Black Cells?" It was a question that needed no answer for Rhaegar knew it already. _Of course he did._ "I should go see him none the less. No doubt Tywin has requested an audience?" 

"Yes Your Grace he has been waiting in the Maester's quarters for quite some time already." 

Rhaegar went to the bed and gently placed Jon next to a stirring Lyanna. "Watch over him until Lyanna wakes please Jon" he smiled warmly one last time at his son before turning his full attention to Griff. "They're all I have left, keep them safe." 

Jon nodded in understanding and went to see Rhaegar out the door. "My friend?" said Jon half heartedly, to which Rhaegar hummed in response. "I.. You know that I.. Well I wanted to give you my sincere condolences for your loss. For the children, and for Elia. I know how much you loved them." 

_Elia_ He winced at the use of the name. No one had said her name to him; not since news of the Red Keep tragedy reached him, for fear that the sound of it would break his heart. Although he himself had often said her name he said it quickly as though to get it over with without causing any further pain. Rhaegar knew Jon had little love for Elia, he had expressed many times that Elia was not good enough for the Silver Prince but what did Jon know. Elia was the strongest woman Rhaegar knew, stronger even than his own lady mother. Regardless of her frail health she had a courage like that of the Warrior himself and the heart of the blessed Mother. Her intelligence matched those of the greatest Maesters of the Citadel and she could out play any man at Cyvasse in her sleep. Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne was born true to her house words _Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken_ but now Elia was dead _’Because of you’_ inner demons would remind him. 

He had been silent for so long Jon began to look worriedly at him. "Love" he finally said. 

"Forgive me Your Grace I don't -" 

"You said loved" he interrupted, "just because they are gone does not mean my love for them is. I love them still." After another awkward silence filled the air Rhaegar let out a short bitter laugh. "Though I suppose no one would ever think that now, would they" He left before Jon could try to comfort him anymore. 


	6. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I tried to shorten this chapter as much as possible. Forgive me if I haven't edited it the best, this chapter caused me alot of grief. I'd like to add again that this is an AU so things are different. Don't worry though, I do believe in happy endings, for everyone ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer the places and characters depicted in this fan fiction are the work and creation of G R R Martin. I have no claim to them what so ever I only write as a fan who is filling the void whilst she anxiously awaits the arrival of The Winds of Winter :)

Jaime Lannister - 283 AL Grand Maester's Chambers

He had been fine since they first found him three nights after the fire. Aye, he was hungry and exhausted but he was well enough. He knew what his father and the good _’Maester’_ were up to. Pycelle had covered every scratch - even if it were minor; with an excessive amount of ointment and bandaging, he forced dreamwine down his throat to keep him in a half daze but Jaime still knew what they were doing. They were playing it up. His father had hated Aerys for inducting Jaime into the King's Guard and although he had relished in his position as Hand he gave it up for fear of recklessly killing the King - and being caught, if he were to stay at the Keep. This was his opportunity to get his heir and his position back. The new King was far kinder and more giving than his predecessor. _’A weakness’_ his lord father had told him _’that we plan to use to our best advantage.’_

"Your Grace is on his way my Lord" the Maester informed.

"Good" the deep voice of his father answered. Tywin turned his attentions now to Jaime, "Remember what we spoke of Jaime, say nothing unless you must. Feign weakness if necessary. Otherwise, be silent." Jaime only nodded in response.

It was just moments later when there was a knock on the door. The Maester opened it to allow Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur and King Rhaegar in. Jaime blushed from head to toe despite himself. They had been fighting in a war and suffered true injury and here he was playing the poor wounded knight. Surely the Gods were spitting at him right now. Much to his relief and further disappointment his _brothers_ and his King only looked at him with sympathetic eyes. _’They feel sorry for you’_ he hissed at himself, disgusted at this charade he seemed to be pulling off quite well.

"Your Grace" His father addressed with a low enough bow.

"Please Lord Tywin, formalities are not needed here surely." Rhaegar turned his attentions now to Jaime, who had tried to sit up right for his King. "It is good to see you well Ser Jaime" he said with a warming and affectionate smile, though it didn't reach his sad eyes.

"There is much I would like to ask you Ser Jaime but for now, Lord Tywin I was told you had requested an audience?"

"Yes Your Grace, I know you must still be in great mourning but the realm needs order. You need to make decisions on certain positions that need refilling on the small council if you are to go about repairing all the damage quickly."

A smirk appeared at the corner of Rhaegar's lips. "Indeed you are right my Lord, is it too much to assume you have suggestions as to who should sit on my council?"

"I have always concerned myself with the good of the realm Your Grace and I have put much thought into who shall replace those who have recently perished."

Rhaegar's eyebrows quirked at the statement; "Go on."

"The best option for Master of Laws would be Lord Arryn, he is a wise man with more honour than his house words." Although the words formed a compliment there was no warmth in his father's voice. _There never is._

Ser Gerold did not look at all pleased at this statement "Jon Arryn is a traitor to the throne!" He stubbornly raged like the beast of his moniker, "Guilty of treason! He -"

"Enough Ser Gerold" Rhaegar interrupted although the dismissive motion of his hand would have been enough to silence his ever loyal Lord Commander. "Lord Tywin has right of it. Jon Arryn did all he could given the circumstances he had. He should be lifted to a position of worthy of his honour. He would be an excellent Master of Laws."

His father nodded in agreement and continued, "Mace Tyrell should be rewarded for his loyalty to the throne so I thought Master of Coin would be fitting" Jaime almost laughed at his father then _Throwing the fat dog a bone eh Father._ Jaime knew Mace Tyrell wanted the position of Hand to be the reward for his loyalty but the old lion has other plans.

"Finding a worthy Master of Ships I had great trouble with, I thought perhaps you would have a better choice. Perhaps Oberyn Martell would -"

"Pfff!" Ser Arthur scoffed much to everyone's astonishment and his father's disgust, "Oberyn Martell would dance on his mother's grave before he ever accepted some **position** " he spat the word "over the justice he deserves for the death of his sister. You should count yourself lucky that Doran is the reigning Prince of Dorne for if it were Oberyn" a small knowing smile curled at the corners of his mouth "you'd have another war to fight." 

_What in the hells?_ Jaime was nearly shocked to death. Ser Arthur Dayne had been the knight of stories. Saving Princesses from thieving rogues; wielding a sword like a God and cutting down all enemies of injustice that lay in his path. _This_ was not Ser Arthur Dayne. _This_ was just the shell of him inhabited by something much colder than the blazing dornish champion that he once had been. Rhaegar for his part looked shocked, hurt and confused. Yet there was an understanding in his eyes. _He knows it to be true._ The Red Viper was almost the polar opposite of his sister. Where his sister was light he was dark, where her patience was endless, he had none. They however, loved each other whole-heartedly and unconditionally. Oberyn would do anything for his sister; that was one of the first things he learnt about the Viper. He remembered the tourney after he had been knighted a man of the King's Guard at the age of only ten and five. After Prince Rhaegar had named the Stark girl his Queen of Love and Beauty.

_He had just been knighted into the King's Guard and everyone was celebrating in the main hall. Almost everyone, Jaime was amoungst the few who had taken their leave. He had done this - joined the King's Guard, to be closer to Cersei but now father had taken her further away. He was wondering aimlessly around the grand and elaborate halls of Harrenhal for his last few moments of real freedom when he stumbled upon them._

_"Obie please calm yourself? Please?! You cannot do anything to rush" her voice was hoarse as though she had been pleading for hours._

_"Are you fucking serious Ellie? Rush? You're telling **me** not to be rush? That sister-fucker inbred mad man just humiliated you, **his wife** infront of all of Westeros for some child! I could rid you of him sister if only you wished it. No one would ever know" the last part said so quietly Jaime had to strain to hear it. _

_'The Red Viper' Jaime whispered to himself in awe. If his fangs were as poisonous as his words then he surely lived up to his name. Jaime hid himself in one of the many alcoves upon hearing their movements coming closer, he did not want to be discovered by the Red Viper, especially now of all times. As he peered out from his hiding place Jaime couldn't help but marvel in the splendour that was the Sun and Viper of Dorne. They looked magnificent in their silks and chiffons of red. Where Oberyn wore the vibrant red of house Martell adorned with orange jewels, Elia wore the deep crimson of house Targaryen adorned with the darkest rubies and garnet. In their movements the fabrics would twirl and dance, blending perfectly as though they were a fire that burnt brightly together as one. Jaime watched as the princess cupped her brothers face in her palms; he thought for a moment she was going to kiss him as Cersei would've done were it her and him in this situation but she only gazed into his eyes, searching for something in the pure black of his irises._

_"He did not shame me for I knew he would crown her" she smiled as his eyes widened; "she deserved it dear brother. She would have beaten him fair and square." And with that her smile grew even more in what looked to be fondness. Jaime wondered briefly how the Princess could be so kind to the she-wolf that threatened to usurp her position - Cersei would surely not be. Jaime could remember the things she called Elia upon hearing of her betrothal to Prince Rhaegar; whore, flat-chested ugly slut, but then again Jaime wasn't to sure if he was hearing the conversation right anyhow. It made no sense. Oberyn looked as though he were about to object again but she hushed him with a gentle sweep of her hand across his forehead. "Forgiveness baby brother is a powerful thing. Your wrath is a flaw that could get you killed someday. Forgive brother" she said beseechingly "Forgive."_

Aye, Jaime knew the truth in Ser Arthur's words and he understood the concern that looked to be seeping into Rhaegar's expression. Elia brought the good out in Oberyn and now she's gone. _But perhaps he knows?_ his thoughts would whisper as though even thinking the thought loudly could be heard.

"Forgive me Your Grace" the snivelling mock of a maester that is Pycelle called from the awkward silence. After a look of approval from Rhaegar he continued. "There is the matter of appointing a Hand my lord King, it is after all the most important role to fill."

"Hmph I thought the Lord Lion had already appointed himself" Ser Arthur, once again, announces the seemingly obvious. Jaime can't help but like this new Ser Arthur although he had admired the Sword of the Morning for all his valour and chivalry the Arthur that stood before him had charms of his own and Jaime definitely doubted he was any less deadly with the greatsword that was slung around his back. Rhaegar gave his King's Guard a look of discontent which was met by an almost defiant glance

"The decision of Hand is far too important a thing to decide. A decision that is fit only for the King" his father growled menacingly. Jaime mused that it must've taken all the resolve his father could muster to appear humble and subservient although any fool could hear the sharp edge of his words. "Besides I have want and need for something more."

"And what is that my Lord?" Rhaegar genuinely asked confused by the turn of events 

"My son Your Grace" feigning a look of concern and affection. Two qualities Jaime knew his father had little of if any. "You are well aware of the conditions Jaime was inducted into your father's King's Guard. I wish him to be released from his vows so I may have my heir."

Rhaegar seemed to ponder on this request for awhile before looking to Ser Gerold, "Lord Commander, the King's Guard is your jurisdiction. What say you?"

The White Bull looked from his King, to Ser Arthur who looked rather discontent before settling on Jaime. "Would you wish to leave the King's Guard boy?"

"Yes" Jaime croaked, he didn't mean to sound so gruff but he hadn't used his voice in so long now.

"Why?"

Jaime thought long and hard about the question. He hadn't prepared for this. His father had told him to stay silent. _’Tell them what you must to go home. Home to Cersei.’_ He cleared his throat "My Lord, when I was first knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne" he gestured towards said knight who solemnly nodded at the acknowledgement, "I was but a greenboy who was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. When I was taken into the King's Guard I thought myself a knight from a story, defending Princesses and helping the weak." His expression darkened. "But then I was made to stand guard as a weak, and defenseless _Queen_ yes but once a Princess was ravaged by the mad dragon." his voice slowly quieting down to a hushed whisper. He stared at Rhaegar angrily, the truth of what he was saying drawing out emotions that should stay well hidden. Despite the voice in his head telling him to stop his tongue continued mercilessly. "He hurt her too. He hurt Elia." He swallowed and tried to steady his hands that had been trembling with pent up frustration. "When that _Stark_ fool showed up here everything went wrong" he noticed how Rhaegar's brows furrowed in confusion. _Is it because of the way I addressed the former heir to Winterfell or is it because he doesn't know what Elia had suffered?_ He laughed at his few memories of the wild-wolf _Keep no love for him my King, for he surely has none for you._ He pressed on as if to further enlighten his King. "When Brandon Stark" he spat the name, "showed up here demanding your head Your Grace, what do you think your father did? Well of course he had the fool beaten to near death and thrown in the black cells to await his father's arrival." He said this all matter of factly, mad King or not if you threaten any King's son you're asking for trouble. "Elia tried to intervene. She knew what would happen and tried to prevent it best she could, saying it would do the realm great harm and could bring about war but instead of seeing her reason Aerys punished her." He took another deep breath to push his way through the memories. "He had her stripped naked and made her take a penance walk." his face lit up in remembrance of her inner strength, "but she did it you know, proud and fierce like the sun."

_She was being publically shamed in front of the whole court. In front of anyone within King's Landing that had followed the crowds of people to the punishment of Princess Elia. The wife to the heir of the Iron Throne. Low-lifes had come to watch her be torn down but those low-lifes were greatly misguided. She was a Nymeros Martell, descendent of a true warrior Queen. She would not break so easily much to Jaime's dismay._

_She submitted to a penance walk from the Great Septor to the Red Keep naked. The King had let her keep her long luscious black hair calling it her ‘Dornish whore Crown’ but his attempt at belittling her only served to make her look like a beauty from the heavens. She walked the line with a confidence that radiated power. The King had cackled hysterically at her, "Who do you think you are?" he screeched at her audacity_

_She merely tilted her chin higher, in both defiance and pride saying "I am Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne. I am Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken."_

_"You dare mock your King!?" he shrieked like a mad man._

_"A King" she stated calmly as though she were dealing with a child, "is merciful, forgiving and just." Her eyes bore in to his, "I see no King here."_

_"Ten lashes!" his mad voice shrilled, "Ten lashes! I demand someone whip this petulant whore bloody!" When the King's Justice arrived a vile smirk spread across Aerys' face. "Let's see how 'Unbowed. Unbent. And unbroken you are now."_

_Elia took a deep breath and poised herself. Hands fisted tightly to her sides. **Wwwiippsh** went the first lash followed by a brief cry of horror from the crowd that gathered. **Wwwwiiipp** the second was worse for the barbs stuck in the meat of her back and had to be pulled out with what seemed to be some force. **Wwwiippsh** the third was met by another cry this one familiar._

_"Mama! Mama! What are doing to my Mama?! Leave her alone! Mama!" Jaime moved as quick as a flash to restrain the child. Rhaenys squirmed with all her might to break free from him but he held her firmly and with quiet words beckoned her to go away inside herself, like he often went away inside himself. "Your Mother is the sun little one. You cannot stop the sun from shining" he tried to comfort but he knew it was in vain. The child was devastated perhaps beyond repair. He hadn't heard the rest of the lashes he only watched in adoration as the Princess took every whipping. True she staggered and almost fell to her knees. And yes her mouth and hands were dripping blood from where she had bitten her lip or pierced her nails through her palm to cope with the pain that was surely searing through her back but she had not cried out. She would never cry out._

_"You still stand there as though you are not the useless whore you are. As though you are not worthless. You will bow to your King now!" he demanded. "Bow to your King!"_

_A faint smile warmed her face as she looked at him almost forgivingly. "I am Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken"_

He remembers how she was taken to the black cells like some common riffraff afterwards but he had never respected anyone more in his life than he did Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne in that very moment. "He put her in the black cells for her defiance. When Lord Stark came to the Keep, Elia was released and made to watch the executions before being put back in her cell with the body of Brandon Stark as a mockery of her trying to defend anyone from the King's orders. I tried to rescue her in the nights following but I was discovered. She was released and I took her place for treason. I tried my best, I did all I could. I did." He looked at Ser Gerold now who looked at him more sadly than he ever had. "I have not yet aged two name days since I joined the King's Guard but I am not the greenboy with wishful thinking I once was." He turned his attentions now to Rhaegar, "I am haunted Your Grace. I would do you no service if I stayed."

Rhaegar looked like a man broken. His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes swimming with pools of unshed tears. He seemed to gain some composure when he looked to Tywin. "I would honour your wishes my Lord if you would accept the position of Hand. You are the most worthy option having filled the role for my father for many years."

The green spark in his father's eyes told Jaime the King had played right into his father's hands and he couldn't help but feel sick that he too had played a part in this. "Thank you Your Grace you are most generous in your offer. I would be a fool to refuse."

Rhaegar nodded and looked back to Jaime one last time "Is there any chance Elia was somewhere in the cells? Is there any hope my family lives?" His voice drifted off. Ser Arthur stared at Jaime as if he were just as eager to know the answer.

"Forgive me but I don't believe so Your Grace. King Aerys moved the Princess to the Maidenvault after I was caught leaving the black cells through one of the passages."

Jaime could see Rhaegar's disappointment and hurt plainly. Jaime knew of Rhaegar's and Elia's relationship well. Their love wasn't that of the songs and ballads sung at wedding feasts, it was a love built on understanding, respect and friendship. With the time they had their love had began to run deep. Jaime felt a sudden pang of guilt when he saw the King trying to wipe a rogue tear away before it could be seen. Rhaegar cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Now that these matters have been settled and I have seen you are well Ser - pardon Lord Jaime I shall take my leave."

"But Your Grace there are other matters -"

The maester was interrupted by an impatient and stern look from the King. "We can discuss other issues on the morrow. For now I bid you my Lords farewell." With that he hurriedly went to make his leave with his King's Guard following in tow. After they had been gone for some time Tywin seemed to almost smile at Jaime, _almost._ It was as if he were silently congratulating him for _playing the game_ so well.

Jaime didn't feel good about this but it was too late now, _What's done is done_. Rhaegar had always been a good man. He was wise and considerate; calm and collected, melancholic maybe but he made those close to him as happy as he could. He was not Aerys. _Like you are not Tywin_ a inner voice would tell him. He couldn't understand why they had to manipulate him. _I have enough lies to tell._ His thoughts drifted to his twin sister as they often did; the glint of her green eyes when they were inflamed with passion, the soft curls of golden hair that tumbled down her body, her body _Gods her body_ the thought sent a twitch down to his manhood. He ached for her, yearned for her. It had been so long since last he buried himself hilt deep within her but sweet memories were quickly forgotten about after another memory of another woman came to mind, _’Promise me Jaime. Promise me.’_ He tried not to think about it, it was no good remembering things such as that when he was being scrutinized so by his former brothers. He had to lie to him, his King. _Treason_ a voice; reminiscent to that of Mad Aerys would whisper. _Yes treason_ his inner-self would mock back with a cutting smirk _’A promise is a promise’_ a sweeter voice would tell him. Aye, he would lie to and manipulate his King. Not for his father, although Tywin would surely think so Jaime has done enough evil for his father. But for a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review. All criticism is appreciated :)


	7. Rhaegar III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. I've never attempted to write kink before so please forgive me if it's not quite enough? Please review and let me know what you think :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sex scenes in this chapter

Rhaegar Targaryen - 283 AL Tower of the Hand

"Rhaegar? Love? Are you unwell?" Lyanna's voice beckoned. _How long has she been there? How long have I been here?_ He looked around the room but it was dark as all the candles had been snuffed out. He remembers leaving the Maester's Chambers and going wherever his feet took him and now here he was, sitting on the edge of the Hand's bed - for his is surely ashes, with the northern beauty he come to love cupping his face and staring into his eyes; worried, concerned and confused.

"Elia's dead" he grimly stated. He noticed - though his eyes were lowered and his lashline was full of tears, that she flinched at the mention of the name and though she regained herself quickly enough he could tell she was struggling to find comforting words to tell him. _Elia would know what to say, she always did._ He could've almost slapped himself for ever comparing Lyanna to Elia. Lyanna was the moon where Elia was the sun, the two could not be compared.

"Love?" He finally said now gazing into her grey moonstone eyes.

"Yes Love?" She replied sounding relieved that he had spoken.

"If Elia had lived would you of stayed here, with us I mean?" She raised an eyebrow at the question but then seemed to suddenly take it seriously.

"Would Princess Elia have wanted me to stay?" He knew the answer immediately.

"I never did tell you how Elia felt about all this did I?" The question was rhetorical but he waited for her to shake her head, which she did earnestly. "Elia knew you were the Knight of the Laughing Tree." He began smiling though the tears tainted it with his sadness. Lyanna came to curl her body around his, her face so close to him he could see the confusion and suprise in her eyes and the furrow of her brow. He chuckled then remembering a fond memory, "She had so much faith in you she bet 10 gold Dragons in your favour instead of mine."

_"Surely this must be a jest Ellie? Pray, tell me it is a jest?" The stifled giggle that answered his pleas made his heart flutter slightly but he pushed the feeling away. He was mad with her, what was she thinking. "This is no joke Elia, if my Father -"_

_"Oh hush love, please never speak of your father when we are in our chambers, guest rooms or not I pray to keep any quarters in which I sleep safe from the dark." she beckoned him to sit next to her on a long lounger that lay next to the blazing fireplace. He refused the offer though; thinking she was trying to sweeten him, and opted to stand over her with a slight scowl._

_"Why would you bet that much on the anonymous knight? Do you know his identity?" She seemed to ignore the tension in his voice which was unlike her and took a gulp from one of the many glass vials the maesters give her on a regular basis._

_"I believe I know the identity of the knight indeed my Prince and I believe they compete for a just and honourable cause."_

_"Elia enough games, tell me who he is?" he growled becoming annoyed by her obvious affections for some lesser knight. She tried to cover her smile by shying it away under her curtain of black silk hair but Rhaegar could see it still and as demure and enticing as it was it only further enraged him._

_"I am afraid I cannot do that love. I cannot tell you who **he** is." She stressed the word. She reached for his hand but angrily he pulled away. "Rhaegar? Are you jealous?" She was now openly smirking at him. The gall of the woman to jape at him, at a time like this._

_"Perhaps and why shouldn't I be? My wife bids for another man - "_

_"I would never bid another man's favour over my lord husband, it would not be dutiful and I, my lord love, am a most dutiful wife as you should be well aware of. For that you are blessed" He looked at her confused for he knew she had indeed bid for another's favour - but then he didn't know. She reached for his hand again this time he didn't pull away. "You are my friend above all else Rhaegar, my bestfriend" she whispered the words against the back of his hand, "trust me?" Her look was not that of a plea for forgiveness it was a plea for understanding; for in hindsight there was nothing to forgive. He huffed a sigh of agreement although he still was not happy about this bet of hers with his father's King's Guard and her viscous little brother. She pecked kisses all along his hand and at the ends of his elegant fingers in thanks._

Lyanna's hearty laugh brought Rhaegar back from his daze of times past. He loved the way she laughed; it was boisterous, loud and what others would call unseemly for a lady but he loved it for it echoed truth, hers was a true laugh filled with joy and happiness. "Truly?" she mustered through the slow dying trail of her amusement.

"Aye" he said with an adoring smile. He did adore Lyanna; her courage, strength and ability. "She quite admired you, you were like the warrior queen Nymeria to her. For that I think she was somewhat jealous of you." Her smile slowly died and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. _Why mention jealousy or any kind of spiteful feeling at all you fool?!_ he internally scolded. It wasn't as though Elia had said a single word of dislike towards Lyanna, Elia was above that sort of behaviour. She was less than pleased though that a year later Rhaegar had chosen to run off with the infamous lady knight to birth a third dragon. He thought he should clarify things further before Lyanna is left to dwell too long on her own assumptions.

"Elia wasn't bothered about the tourney. She decided it was only fair to crown you Queen of Love and Beauty since she believed it would have been yours to crown someone of your own choosing had you had the chance to win it. Elia and I were expecting Aegon during the tourney" he tried to remember the time fondly but now it dripped with the guilt that had all but washed away his good memories. "She had suffered from dreams of freezing blizzards and a silver dragon throughout the majority of her pregnancy and I was so sure it was a sign. Then Elia gave birth to our son almost dying in the process." Lyanna cringed; aye she knew what the labours of childbirth were like well. "The maesters told me she could bare no more children but she would survive. I was relieved to still have Elia and yet the yearning to have one more child pulled at the strings of my heart more." Shame must be etched on his face for shame was all he felt at this moment.

"I began dreaming of you." He looked into the depths of her eyes again, "Dreamt of sinful and lustful things." She blushed furiously and averted her eyes downwards. _She had dreams too._ He could tell by the way she fidgeted he was not wrong. "I dreamt of three dragons ridden by my three children" the heat that had began stirring in the room quickly died but he had to tell her everything.

"When I first took you, you were unwilling?"

"Not entirely." She grinned something similar to that of a she-wolf, "if I had been truly unwilling love you would be dead." They shared a chuckle together and the tension in the air faded in the wind.

"You didn't love me?"

She looked a bit troubled by the question but she answered "No not then."

"When?"

"At the Tower, the first time we -" she stopped. Lyanna was not shy but she wasn't openly wanton. He forgot sometimes she was only ten and six.

"Oh" he knowingly groaned in a deep guttural voice. The shiver that he saw pulse through her body made his groin ache. He damned his manly needs at times like these. He had always been quick to arousal by Elia, the passion they eventually came to share burned brighter than the dornish sun but it seemed the immediate cold burn of his northern moon was no less insatiable. Their conversation seemed all but forgotten when he felt her hand drag slowly up his inner thigh. It was rather bold of her but it gave Rhaegar the signal to unleash his arsenal of lust on her mouth. Her tongue reached for his, beating him to hers. They groaned into each others mouths as Rhaegar pushed her to the bed. He thought to pull away for a moment, that this may not be a good idea.

"I've overcome the aftermath of child birth love. The bleeding ceased when I arrived in King's Landing." If she thought that was the only reason he hesitated she was wrong, but she continued "I've yearned for your love, for your affections. My heart too has been so broken by actions that were my own. Please help me forget about it? Please? I need you."

Her pleas and reassurance of her health was enough for him to continue his ravaging of her. His arm was aching and he struggled to hold his weight over her but she seemed to notice this and flipped them so she straddled him. She leant down to bite at his neck and then lick it better. _My sweet pain and pleasure_ he thought to himself. Moaning as her nips became harder followed by more feverish licks. He hiked her night shift to find no small clothes there, his right hand quickly found her mound and he began circling the hardened nub with gentle caresses from his thumb while two crooked finger teased that spot just inside her. She moaned loudly grinding against his hand. She reached down and pulled at the strings of his breeches he chuckled at the frustrated grunt she let out. Once she had eventually freed him, he stroked himself quickly to lubricate himself with his lady love's juices. She gave a loud moan of relief and pleasure as he guided himself into her folds. She moved slowly at first establishing a rhythm that best suited her. She groaned as he bucked his hips upwards getting deeper within her. She was getting frustrated with herself, he could tell. Her movements were not fast enough for her, nor hard enough. He answered her bodies wishes by pushing her firmly off him and positioning her on all fours. Though he felt the a shooting pain tear through his arm and chest he paid it no mind.

"Put you head down on the pillow love" he gently commanded as he got to his knees behind her and began ghosting his fingers around her nub once again. He entered her quickly in one hard thrust to which she rewarded him with her lover's song. His pace quickened, skin slapped loudly against skin, the sound only being drowned out by heavy breathing, Lyanna's moans of need and his own groans of pleasure. He could feel the tremble building up in her so he worked harder to hasten her to her completion.

"Ooh!" She howled and keened; "Please love, give me your seed." And with that he quickly followed her to his end. His left hand steadying him as his body shook with ripples of satisfaction. They curled into each other and pulled the furs snuggly around them.

"Love?" she whispered after minutes of silence

"Hmmm" he hummed in response

"Even if Princess Elia had not been happy with me staying with you, I would've stayed anyway." She closed her eyes and drifted off to a blissful sleep however for Rhaegar, the melancoly had already begun to set back in.


	8. Lyanna III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this fanfic has somewhat changed it's path and become a work of my family :D  
> It will take on more fandoms soon i.e X-Men and twilight if you squint but the main focus is A Song of Ice and Fire canon-divergence.  
> Please continue giving feedback both positive and negative

Lyanna Stark - 283 AL The Tower of the Hand

She awoke to an abrupt knock at the door. Lyanna's eyes looked around the room quickly searching for Rhaegar but he was no where to be seen. _He always leaves by sunrise_ she disappointedly concluded.

"Lady Lyanna?" the voice called. "It's Lord Jon Connington of the Griffin's Roost, I am here to retrieve you on the King's orders?" _Ick!_ She didn't like the formality at all but she would have to deal to that later. She quickly gathered a black velvet dress that was plain but cut well enough to hug her body nicely. _It's comfortable._ She went to the basin filled with what looked to be fresh water and cleaned her face and then her inner thighs and the juncture of which they joined with a sponge. She smiled to herself as she thought of the events that had occurred the night before. Rhaegar had a way of making her body sing that would only leave her more wanting. She had no time to dwell on that now though as the knocking came again, this time more loudly.

"Forgive me my Lady but I really must take you to the King as quickly as possible. Your presence is required by the Small Council." She could hear the strain in his voice, as though he was not particularly fond of the person he was talking to.

"Yes Lord Connington I'm coming." She put on fresh small clothes and the dress she'd chosen in great haste, smoothed her hair down as best as she could and made her way to the basinette. Jon was just lying there; staring at all he could see around him in wonder. When the sight of her came into his view the smile she received could have warmed the ice of the Wall. She picked him up and gracefully made her way to the door. Lord Connington stood there with an impatient expression and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her which was quickly followed by a look of distaste like something was wrong with the way she looked.

"Is something the matter my lord?" sarcasm laced in every word.

"Forgive me my lady but perhaps you misunderstood the circumstances of which you have been summoned" he surveyed her more heavily now, eyes travelling from her toes up to the top of her head, "you are to attend small council. Perhaps you should take more time to prepare?"

"No" she said curtly, annoyed that he had even made the gesture after demanding that she hurry up. It wasn't as if she looked like some servant although the look in Jon's eyes debated otherwise. "I am fine as I am."

She noticed now that Wylla stood behind him, Jon must be hungry he hadn't fed since last night. "Shall I take him my lady?"

"Please" Lyanna replied with a smile that was only meant for Wylla. Lyanna thus far had no warm smiles for Jon Connington and doubted she ever would as he gave her yet another judgemental glance. _And what makes you think you're any better than me?_ She was a Lady of Winterfell, her ancestors had ruled the North for millenniums longer than the Targaryens had the Iron Throne. Some lesser Lord of a small house had no reason or right to look down on her so.

They made their way through collapsed ruins and red halls that remained sturdy regardless of the chaos that lay around them. Although she wanted to take a moment to truly take the sight in, Lord Jon urged her to continue on their way faster. "The King and his Lords have been waiting long enough my Lady, please let us make haste." He covered his dislike for her well with pretty, trained words. Lyanna wondered guiltily if it were an affection to the late Princess Elia that made him this way.

As they reached a large door Lyanna straightened her back and brushed down her skirts quickly before Jon had a chance to first knock on and then open the door. "Your Grace," Jon bowed lowly towards Rhaegar, "may I present Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell." Lyanna didn't fail to notice how his voice grew colder to that of the initial warmth it once had when he was addressing Rhaegar. Rhaegar stood, smiled and gestured for her to take a seat behind him at his desk but she had frozen in her place. _Ned. Ben._ It was the first time she had seen any of her kin since she had left. She was filled with both happiness at the overwhelming joy she saw in the tears of Benjen's eyes, and hurt at the hesitant relief she found in Ned's. They were seated around the huge oak table that served as a desk - for whom must have been giants for it seated the twenty or so people surrounding it with some space, next to Ned sat the Tully bride Catelyn who had belonged originally to Brandon- _Do not let yourself think of him now! You cannot afford to lose your composure in front of these people._ For her part Catelyn Tully, nay Stark now, gave a slight bow of her head though her eyes were glassy with a distance that told Lyanna it was a gesture of polite formality and nothing more. She stared at Ned desperately but he only looked down at his hands which lay in his lap. Jaw clenching and unclenching. Benjen gave shot him a pleading look and then looked back to Lyanna giving her a reassuring nod to take her seat. _We'll talk later_ she knows.

She noticed the glare in the Lord of the Rock's eyes as she walked past him, the intensity made her shudder. She had heard _The Rains of Castamere_ before, and she had no doubt the look Lord Lannister was giving her now was a replica of that he would've given to the body of Lord Reyne. _Why does everyone hate me today?_ Once she had taken a seat an old bald man with a long white beard spoke up.

"Your Grace if I may continue what I was saying?"

"You may."

"Dorne has not replied to any ravens sent to both Sunspear and the Water Gardens. We fear they may rebel against the throne." Rhaegar seemed to ponder on the news for some time, he looked more concerned than she had ever seen him. Tywin the newly appointed Lord Hand interjected.

"Dorne will not go to war against us Your Grace. Once a viper is out of it's nest it is all but defenceless against the wrath of the remaining kingdoms."

"Aye Your Grace," a fat man dressed in elaborate silks of a golden yellow and deep forest green agreed. Gold rings of emerald and canary yellow diamonds adorned his sausage like fingers and draped around his almost invisible neck, "Sand snakes hide in their desert like cravens. Men of the Reach know that well." Lyanna's eyes quickly averted to Ser Arthur whose fist shook furiously at his side while he stood guard behind Rhaegar. _"Cravens" is not a word I would use to describe the men of Dorne_ she thought knowing full well how fearless they can be if Arthur Dayne was anything to go by. _It would take two men and a well placed arrow to take that man down in combat._

"Send more letters. Send messengers if you must. I want word from Doran Martell before the coronation."

"But Your Grace the new High Septon presses for the coronation to take place soon. We can not risk losing the favour of the Faith, there are too many devout men who would rise against a newly appointed King if they were seen as unworthy in the eyes of the sept. Also your marriage to Lady Lyanna" his eyes darting to her "surely must be seen to?"

The room filled with tension. Lyanna looked from Rhaegar to Benjen, who both thankfully gave her an encouraging look. She had known for some time that her and her Silver Dragon would have to marry in a sept for the Seven. They had meant to wed as soon as they reached Dorne but there was no septon to be found in the desert that surrounded their love tower so they were unable to bless their union by the Faith. _As if I care._ Lyanna didn't even believe in the Seven, she held true to the Old Gods like every Stark before her has. She said vows to him under a starry Dorne sky, in view of the heavens, her ancestors and all the Gods old and new that there can be. That was wed enough for her.

"Might I add Your Grace there is also the issue of your heir."

"Jon can be legitimized-"

"I'm afraid that could prove to be most difficult Your Grace." _What?_ A panicked voice fills her head. _Jon **is** Rhaegar's son. Why would it be difficult?_ Rhaegar seemed to go further into thought and concern which only served to make Lyanna more anxious.

"How can it be done?" Rhaegar finally said.

"After much discussion with the High Septon, Your Grace he decided the best way in which to appease both your wishes and that of the Gods you must annul your marriage to Princess Eli-"

"Why?!" Rhaegar abruptly interrupts "Elia is.. She.. I am widowed. Why should I dishonour her memory so?" the look on his face added a silent _more so._

"Forgive me Your Grace, I meant no dishonour to Princess Elia but if the marriage to the late Princess is annulled the High Septon will be far more willing to wed you to Lady Lyanna and they would not object so much to the legitimization of your son. The High Septon is a fiercely devout man I highly doubt you'll gain his favour any other way."

"Who would object to a man who only wishes to legitimize his only son and heir?" Rhaegar asked aloud although he seemed to only be speaking to himself. The broad auburn-grey haired man that had been seated next to Ned's lady wife dressed in Tully coloured silks embroidered with silver trout at the cuffs and neckline stood; a tall man, not quite as tall as the men of House Stark - though not many had their height, and cleared his throat.

"If I may speak freely, Your Grace" he bowed as lowly as was necessary and nothing lower.

"You may Lord Hoster." Although he masked it well Lyanna could tell the idea of this man speaking freely made Rhaegar nervous.

"I am a devout man of the Seven." He looked down to his daughter who nodded in agreement with her father, a sense of pride in the tilt of her chin. He seemed to gain strength from her support and carried on. "Family. Honour. Duty. These are my words, the words of my House. My forefathers and descendents both will share these words and hold them in the highest of regards." Catelyn Stark gave her father the first smile Lyanna had seen from her and though it was only small Lyanna could see it for what it was. _Papa's little Princess_ a voice told her. _Just like you used to be_ a crueller one reminded.

"When I first sent men, _good_ men, into this war I surely had my reservations. Then I thought back to my words." He inhaled slowly as though he was repeating the mantra of his house words internally as he spoke. "My Catelyn was to marry Brandon Stark. Rickard Stark and I were to share grandchildren." He looked again to his daughter who's posture never faltered and yet Lyanna could see the hurt in the quiver of her tight rosy lips. "The Sevens blessed me by granting that still." He directed his attentions now to Ned who lifted his eyes revealing a calm there in the storm of their grey, nodded and then averted his eyes back down. "We were to be 'Family'. It was for **their** 'Honour" his eyes and words were like daggers aimed at Lyanna and she flinched at the internal pain their sharpness caused. She prayed he would stop, that Rhaegar would stop him but he didn't, "When Aerys unleashed a darkness that no one here would dare deny could've destroyed the realm and it was believed you had _stolen_ Rickard's girl like a wildling in the night, I saw it as my **'Duty'** to protect the realm from this madness and retrieve the girl in **'Honour'** of _her_ **Father** and **brother** , her **Family**!"

Lyanna was crying now, though she cried in silence the tears that flowed down her face were obvious. Benjen looked at her helplessly his mouth twitching as if any moment he'd protest in her defence. _No Ben, he's right._ Hoster Tuller's stern gaze saddened "I sent my brother to war, to the Stranger," he despaired. The Blackfish was well spoken of and heard about even in the North, Lyanna had not known he had been a casualty to the war _you started_ her conscience reminded. Though it was widely known that Hoster and Brynden bickered over Blackfish's refusal to marry at the request of his older Lord brother, love for family runs deeper than petty disputes.

With guilt dripping off his tongue he continued though he seemed to have lost the resolve to speak "He died on the Trident for what I had believed to be an honourable cause but nay, it was all for naught." He shook his head, eyes closed tightly as though he were trying to shake free of the pain he felt. "I became a traitor, Your Grace. Good men here dishonoured themselves and became **traitors** " he spat the word as though it were a bad taste. "I sacrificed 'Family' for a false 'Duty' and lost my 'Honour'." He looked now at Rhaegar as though he were a foolish greenboy who had no idea the consequences of his actions. Rhaegar for his part did not shudder away like Lyanna had but the effect these words were having on him were hurtful to say the least.

"Surely now you must realise that I am indeed a man who would object to you legitimizing your _baseborn_ son if it is not consented so by the High Septon." He straightened his back lifting both his chest and his chin in a staunch defiant manner, "I have lost my words," he clarified "I will not lose my Faith." He bowed again and waited for Rhaegar to motion him to seat. The room fell silent for what seemed like an eternity, all eyes looking to Rhaegar to speak.

"My Lords," he finally started, though his voice didn't hold the reverence that Hoster Tully's did "I know everyone in this room has suffered great loss. I asked you; Lord Tully, Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon to join us in this small council so that I might hear your pleas and concerns for the future. The past I cannot begin to repair" his voice drifting and his eyes filling with guilt, "but I assure you I will try." Rhaegar looked to Tywin Lannister who seemed to have been unmoved by the emotion that was thick in the atmosphere, "Lord Hand I shall need a message sent to Dorne immediately. Inform them of the annulment; ask for any means of which to make ammends for their losses. If there are none remind them that they too are sworn to the Iron Throne." Although his face never changed Tywin's eyes went from a cool calm green to the predatory green gold of a lion in hunt.

"I'm sure I can find a way to appease Dorne Your Grace, every man has his price."

The old bald man with the white beard who Lyanna had finally decided could be none other than the Grand Maester rose from his seat to address his King again, stopping first to whisper something to a young boy who nodded in understanding and scampered off as quickly as a mouse. Lyanna thought it strange that this maester did not wear grey hence why she had not realised who he was from the beginning. In fact for a maester he was quite well adorned but Lyanna thought perhaps Grand Maesters were different from the normal ones she'd seen in Winterfell.

"There are of course other things we needed to discuss my lord King, if you would allow me to address them?" Rhaegar nodded for him to continue, "There are obvious repairs to be done to the realm that need to be repaired as quickly as possible."

"Aye" the fat man from the Reach who had spoken before had said from his seat "I've estimated about 3 million gold dragons Your Grace, and that's for King's Landing alone." _How much?!_ Lyanna's mouth almost fell off it's hinges and hit the floor, shocked almost breathless.

"And how much do we have in the Royal Treasurery?" Rhaegar asked as though he was not at all surprised at the number. Lyanna had never even heard her father mention such numbers unless they were counting leaves in the Godswood.

"Exactly three million dragons Your Grace, but then the rest of the realm requires at least another three to compensate for damages. I have looked into all possible solutions and the only answer I could think on was a loan from the Iron Bank of Braavos."

"For three million dragons they'll want the throne." Lord Lion interrupted to which Lord Arryn of the Eyrie said "Aye" in agreement. "Might I give you an alternative option Your Grace?"

"If you have one my Lord, please" Rhaegar said ignoring the fat Lord of the Reach who had turned a bright shade of scarlet and looked as though he were about to burst.

"I can in fact loan the money myself to the Throne, Your Grace. I would expect no interest just complete repayment though it matters not how long it takes to be repaid." That statement shocked Lyanna even more than the impossibly large sum of money mentioned earlier. _How can the Rock have more than the Crown?_ Lyanna wondered. Rhaegar too looked to be pondering this, though he looked more relieved than anything.

"If it can be done without causing the Rock any financial strife than I shall accept your offer with much gratitude Lord Tywin, though I do not see how I could thank you any more than I have for your further services to the realm and the throne?"

"It is only my _Duty_ , Your Grace." he said throwing a mocking look at the Lord of the Riverlands who saw the slight for what it was and began huffing and puffing under his breath to the Lord of the Eyrie seated next to him.

"Thank you Lord Tywin, I shall find a means to appease you I'm sure. Now that repairs are settled what other matters are there?" Rhaegar's question directed now to the Maester.

"Your Grace still has not announced a Master of Ships?" Men shuffled in their chairs, puffing up their chests with shoulders thrown back as though they were volunteering themselves as candidates.

"Lord Stannis Baratheon" Rhaegar addressed, to which everyone looked shocked. Lyanna quickly scanned the room for a Robert-look-alike but found none. Instead a tall, grim looking man dressed in plain black silks with two golden yellow stags and a single doe embroidered over his heart stood. He looked next to nothing like Robert Lyanna thought. Robert had been a hulk of a man, even more muscular than her Brandon and almost as tall and handsome too. The man that stood now was almost the polar opposite, though it could not be said he was not handsome or short. It wasn't until Lyanna saw the black abysmal shine of his hair and the blue storm of his eyes that screamed _Ours is the fury!_ that she finally saw the resemblance. She looked back to Ned quickly who had looked up at the new Lord of the Storm's End almost mournfully and then looked back down. _He's doing that a lot lately_. Lyanna couldn't help the way the guilt ate away at her every time she looked at her brother. He looked so tired, so old, so cold. Had she really done this to him or was is just her cruel conscience wanting to punish her more?

"Your Grace?" a low cold voice resonated from the lithe young lord. He bowed his head lowly though it was not quite low enough seeming to lack more respect for his future King than Lord Tully.

"Lord Connington told me you made exceptional efforts during the war by sea?"

"If you are speaking of my efforts to send a fleet up the Trident Your Grace then I'm sure you are also well aware that said fleet failed to arrive on time therefore my efforts were null in void." He spoke as cold and placid as a frozen lake Lyanna wondered briefly if any Baratheons had ever taken a Stark bride before. For this man truly had the cold of the North.

"I am aware of this Lord Baratheon," Rhaegar said sounding quite irritated that his attempt at complimenting the man had been deflected "I am also aware that no one has ever successfully guided a fleet quite so big up the Trident before?" He looked to Lord Tully to confirm his statement to which the old man nodded in what seemed to be both admiration for the Lord of the Storm's End and extreme annoyance with a greenboy who thought to show a trout how to swim upstream.

"I was unaware of this Your Grace" he said through a tightened jaw and clenched teeth, "but as I said earlier the fleet failed to land on time. Therefore was a nothing but a failure and so is nothing worthy of your praise my Lord."

Rhaegar sighed seeming so much more tired now than he had before he had hear this answer. "You seem aware that my praise is because I've chosen you as my Master of Ships Lord Stannis?" _Stannis!_ Lyanna exclaimed internally, _His name is Stannis_. Lyanna had been trying to remember the whole time what his name was. Robert had never spoke of Stannis only his babe brother Renly but Ned had mentioned him once when he told Lyanna stories of the Stormlands. Lyanna wondered now why Robert hadn't spoken of him, he had spent enough hours carrying on like a doting father about Renly but perhaps Stannis and Robert were not so close.

"Yes Your Grace" he says all too bluntly

"And you wish to decline my offer?" Rhaegar asks exasperatedly. Stannis' lack of appreciation and enthusiasm for his rise to a new position was showing it's wear on the King-in-waiting now.

"It would be foolish of me to Your Grace" he says again, bluntly

"And yet you do not seem pleased? Pray tell me what it is I could do to appease you?" Rhaegar sounded to be pleading now. _He's too tired for this_ Lyanna concluded.

"You wish to take my brother and give me what? A position as Master of Ships? Do you wish to mock all that I have lost for House Targaryen?" His words came out so rushed he seemed to have even surprised himself. 

"Please Lord Baratheon I know you must mourn Robert -"

"This has nothing to do with Robert!" The Stormlord all but spat his brother's name.

Confused Rhaegar shook his head, "Then what my Lord? Pray tell me I do not understand what you mean?"

Stannis seemed to gather his resolve and straighten his back more so, "If it pleases you Your Grace, earlier you said Renly will come to court when he is ten to squire. Forgive me but I cannot see how taking away my youngest brother to make up for killing my oldest works? Am I supposed to rejoice in the fact that between you and your late lord father I stand to lose my entire family?" The last question seemed to only confuse Rhaegar more so Stannis continued to enlighten him.

"The last time the throne gave my family "Ships" it was to go to Essos to find you a bride, Your Grace. My parents failed to find anyone suitable for the King so they returned only to die near the shores of their home. Although our late Lady Mother sent a letter of kind words and condolences to my brothers and I, your father had only told the maester that this would be the last time the throne would ever be giving good ships to the Lord of the Stormlands. So you can see how I thought this to be some kind of mock, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar nodded solemnly, he had not thought of all this so it seemed. Lyanna had come to learn that Rhaegar often didn't think things through fully, a lacking they both shared. "Edmure Tully and Renly Baratheon will come to court to squire, however perhaps when they are ten and three?" He looked to the old Lord Lion who nodded his approval at what seemed to be a change of plan. "And when that time comes Lord Baratheon you will join him. Members of Small Council have traditionally stayed in King's Landing although I will allow you to return to the Stormlands with your brother until the time comes for you to both join me in court."

Stannis almost looked happy though it was more relief than anything. "Thank you, Your Grace. Your offer is surely a gracious one that I most humbly accept." He inclined his head into another slight bow though this one was lower than his first and took his seat again.

Right then there was a knock at the huge door. The young boy who had scurried away earlier steeped in and cleared his throat. "Announcing his holiness, the High Septon of the Faith"

A stout fat man dressed in robes of earth tones with a crown of seven rainbow coloured glass shaped blades entered the room. Lord Tully stood in respect of the man followed quickly by many others, even Rhaegar himself. Lyanna proudly noted how Ned and Benjen stayed seated along with her. _We keep the Old Gods of the First Men like all true Starks._

"Please, please" he bellows gesturing everyone to sit. He turned now to Rhaegar and bowed, "I am told you have made a decision my lord?"

"I have decided to appease your wishes and annul my marriage to Princess Elia" Rhaegar nearly growled.

"Excellent my lord, so I am to assume the wedding shall take place on the morrow then?" the short round man replies with a faked smile seemingly oblivious to Rhaegar's annoyance. Every second Lyanna spends with the man she thinks more and more how fake everything about him seems.

"Can it not wait for a reply from Dorne?"

"I do not think it wise to wait that long Your Grace, besides what could Dorne say that would deter you from wedding your lady love?"

Rhaegar turned slightly to Lyanna, though his eyes were not fully locked on hers she could see the sad melancholic lilac of his eyes. "If it is done on the morrow the coronation can be held when?"

"That same day my lord" the fat man replied with another fake smile.

"Then if it is fine with my lady?" he turned around fully to Lyanna now. She could see how truly tired he was, as though all this was slowly draining him of his life. She wished she could say yes straight away like she wanted to but she looked now to her brothers, Benjen was looking at her reassuringly as though whatever she decided was good enough for him but then she knew he would, he always had. It was Ned who she looked at, Ned who had not truly looked at her, Ned who had seemingly put up a barrier bigger than the Wall of the North between him and his sister.

"Ned?" She whispered afraid he may reject her calling if it was said any louder. She didn't think anyone heard her she had said it so quietly but Ned heard he always did. He stood and bowed slightly to her.

"Yes Your Grace?" The formality of it all hurt more than any rejection. More than any of the harsh words Lord Tully had said, almost more than all the cruel words her brother and father had said to her in her dreams. She was beseeching herself internally not to cry but the only other emotion she could channel was anger, like the wild wolf.

"Well, you are my liege lord now are you not? So what say you then Lord Stark of Winterfell?" She regretted the words as soon as she said them. They'd pained her before they had fully fallen from her lips and they seemed to have pained her brother even more.

"Forgive me Your Grace but you are not a subject to the Lord of Winterfell, not now anyway. Not anymore." Ned sat back down not quite lowering his head quick enough to hide the tears hiding in his lash line. His Tully wife reached for his hand which he quickly grabbed, squeezing it in his much larger hands that come to rest on his lap again. She looked at him affectionately which did not seem to go unnoticed as he lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to it. Lyanna could've almost leapt out of her skin in shock if it wasn't threatening to squeeze the life out of her from the pain Ned's words had caused her. She had never seen him like this with a woman before but then this wasn't just a woman, this was his wife.

"We marry on the morrow my Lord" she heard herself say, though her attention still belonged solely to Ned.

Rhaegar looked at her worriedly, "Then everything is settled?" he openly asked the room. He was answered by nods and "ayes" from what seemed to be all his lords and men.

"Good, I shall see everyone in this room in the Great Sept at noon to attend the royal proceedings. For now you may be excused." The entire room rose and bowed though the two Tully girls who seemed to be the only other women in the room gave a perfectly practiced curtsy instead before they all made their way out of the great wooden doors.

"Arthur?" Rhaegar beckoned to his Kings Guard who had been standing the entire time behind him

"Hmmm?"

"Is it asking you too much to go to Dorne?"

"Yes."

"Arthur" Rhaegar growled impatiently.

"I will go of course Your Grace, I shan't like it but I am well accustomed to doing things I do not like by now. If it is not too much to ask though, my I visit Starfall?"

"Of course, can you leave tonight?"

"I can leave now if it please you?"

"If you can, please." Arthur nodded and went to take his leave. Rhaegar called to him before he exited the door, "And Arthur?"

"Yes Your Grace?" he answered somewhat impatiently as though he were eager to return to Dorne.

"Be careful, my friend." Arthur looked almost taken aback, then looked a mixture of both frustrated and understanding

"I will be, thank you." Then he turned and left.

Rhaegar clenched his eyes shut, massaged his temples with a few circular motions before standing. "Come love", he said holding out his arm for her to take but not actually looking at her. He seemed distant and troubled so she asked

"Where are we going?"

"Your brothers are expecting us."


	9. Eddard I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit rushed and a bit of a tease for some ;) but I'm wanting to get through all this mapping and laying out the background
> 
> I do hope you enjoy :D as always review

Eddard Stark - 283AL King's Landing, the remains of the Red Keep

"I was doing what is expected. Every other man addressed them with the same formality." His voice was stern, though he hated arguing with his brother he would not back down.

"You are not every other man! You are her brother!" Ned cringed knowing Benjen was right in his own way but he had _the_ right of it.

"There are certain ways to which we should address people at court, she should know that. She didn't have to snap at me the way she did."

"And yet you still didn't have to be so cruel Eddard!" Benjen yelled. He had never seen his little brother so angry before but this still didn't break his resolve.

"You should not raise your voice to your liege lord Benjen" Catelyn chastened as she cradled a nursing Robb to her breast.

"He will not be my liege lord for much longer!" He objected

"And what madness has overcome you to have forced you to say such a thing?" Catelyn asked looking both hurt and flustered by the statement. Benjen for his part seemed to look very apologetic by the hurt in her voice and on her face.

"Forgive me my Lady it is only that I plan to take the Black."

"What?!" He and Catelyn had said it in unison though there had been a third voice as well. He turned to the door to see his wild sister dressed in a mournful black that was far too harsh against her pale features, her arm draped around the future king's. _Her future husband_ he reminded himself. Benjen went to Lyanna who had dropped Rhaegar's arm to embrace him. They stood there for awhile hugging eachother, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like they always had. She looked to him with a small smile that asked for forgiveness but he only looked to Cat who was fussing at putting her teat away. He chose to ignore his sister for now and turn his attentions instead to Rhaegar.

"You wanted to speak with us Your Grace?"

"I had thought you would want to speak with us? Or more precisely to your lady sister?"

"Of course we do" Benjen interrupted, "forgive Ned Your Grace, he's never been good with words." He smiled cheerfully at Rhaegar who returned it.

"Ned?" Lyanna quietly called for him in the testing way she does.

"Yes Lya." She brightened at his answer as though she knew in time all would be forgiven and Ned would love her again the way it used to be. She smiled wide and practically jumped on him wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"I'm so sorry Ned, I never meant for any of this. I never meant for.. f-father or Brand-d-don" she was stammering through the tears that were drenching his shoulder, "I'm sorry about Robert, I didn't want him to die I just didn't want him. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." Ned hugged her to his chest and hushed her sobs. He knew she must be dying inside, for a wolf losing your pack is the worst thing that could happen to you.

"I know you never meant any harm Lya. I forgive you." She responded by holding him tighter and shedding even more tears.

"And Brandon he forgives you too and so do I, as if we even needed to forgive you." Benjen added but the mention of Brandon had made her shake more.

"Brandon would probably leave me for the Others. Disown me and it's all my fault" She cried loudly though it was hard to understand as her head was buried firmly against Ned's chest.

"Brandon's gone-" Benjen started but he was interrupted by a hysterical Lyanna

"Yes and he's gone because of me Ben!"

"No he's gone because of him Lya! Because he's a reckless, irresponsible fool that cannot stop to think with his brain instead of his -"

The sound of skin hitting skin resonated through the room so loudly Robb had been shocked awake in Catelyn's arms letting out a loud wail that Cat quickly soothed away. "Don't you ever fucking say that about Brandon, **_my_** Brandon, ever again."

"Sorry Lya." Benjen apologized, the left side of his face burning a violent red. Lyanna looked at him with regret as soon as she saw how dark the mark was.

"No I'm sorry Ben, we're all just emotional over our loss, saying things we don't mean." Ned wasn't too sure who his sister was trying to reassure, them or herself. She turned her attentions now to Robb who had been murmuring and gurgling low complaints to his lady mother since he had been woken.

"Forgive me little one" she said to Robb with an affectionate smile, "and what might his name be?" the question was directed to Catelyn who Ned could see was internally contemplating turning her back to Lyanna to shield their babe from what Cat must think is his evil Aunt. Ned frowned knowing he would have to speak to Cat about this.

"Robb, Your Grace." Catelyn answered curtly to which Lyanna winced slightly.

"Robb?" Lyanna turned now back to Ned sounding disappointed, "I thought for sure you'd name him Brandon or Rickard."

"No!" He replied much too abruptly, correcting himself quickly he added, "I did not wish to tempt the Gods. Least not yet." Ned cursed himself for never knowing the right thing to say as his last statement had only seemed to cause his sister more pain.

"Of course not, besides, Robert was a good friend to you" she tried to reassure.

"A brother in every way that counts." Ned said though he had not meant to out loud. He also hadn't meant to glare at Rhaegar the way he had but that simply could not be helped, at least not for some time anyway.

"Perhaps your Robb will be like a brother to my Jon?"

"Jon? You named your boy Jon?" He asked, looking at Rhaegar for confirmation which was gravely given.

"I did. For you and for father." Jon was a traditional Stark name. Jon had been the name of their father's uncle, their father credited him as the man who raised him. Ned too had been raised by a Jon though he was not a Stark. Jon was a good name for good men, Ned was pleased his nephew was given such a name instead of one of the strange and foreign valyrian names of the Targaryens.

"Where is he?" Ned questioned, suddenly wanting to see his nephew as soon as possible. Another member of the Stark pack regardless of if his name ended in Targaryen.

"Aye, can we see him?" Benjen added looking more enthused to meet his new nephew than Ned.

Lyanna giggled and says, "Soon, for now he needs his rest." Her expression turned more serious before she said "Besides Benjen, what's this nonsense about taking the Black?"

Rhaegar for the first time since he had arrived seemed intrigued by the conversation, Ned couldn't help but wonder why but there were more important questions that needed to be answered.

"Well I'm taking the oath and heading to the Wall." Benjen says matter-of-factly. Ned frowned, confused by his little brother's determination to do such a thing. _He's never spoken of this before._ Ned tried to remember any time Benjen had ever mentioned being a man of the Night's Watch but no such time came to mind.

"Why? Why can't you just become a lord of some kind in the North or maybe even in the Crownlands? I'm sure Rhaegar could -"

"No sweet sister" Benjen interrupted his reassuring smile never wavering from his face. "I don't want to be a Lord, I want to be of service to my realm."

"Then join the Kings Guard!" She pleaded.

"No Lyanna you don't understand! I **must** join the Night's Watch, you just don't understand." Everyone looked startled by the rise in Benjen. Sure he had just been yelling at Ned and raving about Brandon not more than ten minutes ago but Ben never raised his voice to a Lady. Their father had taught them all how to treat women, apparently with Brandon father had taught maybe too much and Ned perhaps not enough but Ben had always been the perfect gentleman, especially when their sister was involved.

After her initial shock was over she asked, "Then tell me Ben, so I can understand?" 

He huffed and scratched the back of his head seeming to try and remember something, "Well I'm good at making oaths and never breaking them so I figured if the shoe fits."

"Ben please don't try be like Bran-"

"Lya please. You are not the only one entitled to feeling guilt you know that as well as I. Besides now days I have more secrets to keep than any man should in one life time, the best place to keep secrets is alone." Ned couldn't understand what secrets Ben spoke of but they mattered not at the moment. Not when he could see his sister's heart breaking because his only brother left was threatening to leave them for almost complete isolation.

"Tell him he's mad Ned. Tell him there's _things_ beyond the Wall, _**Other**_ things. Tell him to stay in Winterfell with you and every year I'll bring Jon to visit an we can be a pack again. Tell him Ned, tell him?" She was pleading him now, he knew. Pleading him to make it all better for her like he always did. Her and Brandon would make a big mess of things, Benjen who had silently kept look out will hide away keeping their secrets to himself and denying knowledge of anything that happened when father interrogates him later but Ned would be the one to clean it all up, fix it and make it better. Unfortunately this time Ned didn't think he could. _He's a man grown now, he can choose for himself his own fate._

"Starks have manned the Wall for generations." He says to his grieving sister instead.

"Ned, are you serious?"

"There is great honour in defending the Wall." Ned adds ignoring the disbelief in his sister's voice and eyes.

"You're going to let him go?!"

"Lyanna he's a man grown."

"He could die Eddard! Alone and cold on his own! Father always said the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. You can't go Ben, you mustn't?!"

"Lya" Benjen said gently, trying to calm their frantic sister but it was Brandon that always soothed her, Brandon that always knew what to say and do, Brandon understood her best. Ned could still hear his brother calling now _Brandon to the rescue_ whenever Lyanna needed him but Brandon wasn't here anymore and neither he nor Ben could substitute for him, at least not when it came to their sister. Rhaegar looking concerned with how much Lyanna had been crying finally stepped in to comfort her. He wrapped her up in his arms and pressed kisses all along her hairline, faltering ever so slightly at the middle to kiss at a peak that wasn't there. Ned felt uncomfortable seeing such public displays of affection. Though he imagined if Ashara had survived childbirth they would have been very affectionate in public rather often. He internally chastened himself for thinking such things when Cat is in the room with their perfectly healthy son cradled to her chest. He could think of Ashara when he was alone, when he dreamed, _when I pray_ he told himself thinking of the Godswood back home in Winterfell. 

"Forbid it Rhaegar, surely you could forbid it?" Lyanna murmured through sniffs and sobs.

"Forbid a man doing an honourable thing my love? Shall I then forbid all men from doing honourable things? What kind of King would I be if I went around forbidding such things?"

It seemed to be the right thing to say as Lyanna released her future husband with a kiss and began clutching again to Ben. "You'll write as much as possible?"

"Of course."

"And you'll keep me well informed of everything that happens?"

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

"Then you have my blessing and support. Pray I always keep yours?"

Ben smiled a true smile, the truest Ned had seen since Harrenhal when they watched their sister unhorse knight after knight, "Always" he replied.

Robb let out another loud wail as though he too had heard the confirmation that his Uncle would leave for the Wall and was mourning a man he barely knew enough to lose. Catelyn hushed and cooed at him trying to quiet him so that the conversation may continue uninterrupted but their little son would have none of it. Ned reached out to take Robb from his exhausted looking mother but Lyanna had stepped in front of him and reached Cat first.

"May I?" Lyanna asked, gesturing for Cat to place Robb in her arms. Cat hesitated but after a look of reassurance from Ned she relented and placed their son in his Aunt's arms.

"Gods he's beautiful Ned. Though I can't say he gets it from you, he's the image of his mother. First borns seem to be the image of their mother's." The compliment was wasted on Catelyn who had turned into a stone statue again planted firmly at Ned's side.

"Does your Jon look like you then?" Ben asked, excited at the opportunity to bring up Jon again.

"No," she says quietly not wanting to disturb a newly settled Robb in her arms, "he looks kind of like Brandon" the sadness in her voice obvious even though it remained quiet, "but mostly he looks like you Ned." If he had wanted to meet his nephew before, Eddard Stark desperately wished to meet him now. He had been dreaming of a babe with Stark grey eyes and dark brown hair for months, and once word got to him of Robb's birth he thought for sure he had been dreaming of his son. Robb was blessed with his mother's beautiful fire kissed hair and Tully blue eyes though so _It must be Jon_ he concluded.

"Forgive me Your Grace might Robb and I take our leave?" Catelyn politely asks Rhaegar but is answered by Lyanna

"Oh no Catelyn, may I call you Catelyn?"

"You may Your Grace."

Lyanna furrowed her brow "Then please call me Lya."

Catelyn only nodded in response so Lyanna continued her attempt at playing nice good-sister to his new bride. "Surely you are both tired? These are your chambers, you stay. Rhaegar and I shall take our leave now and let's say we break our fast together on the morrow?"

Catelyn nodded and smiled though anyone could see it was forced. "I'll take my leave with you, I have yet to be shown my chambers anyway." Benjen offered; keen to spend more time with their long lost sister. After their formal farewells till the morning Ned turned to Catelyn who had readied herself on the bed so she could feed Robb again.

"Cat, may I speak with you?" She didn't raise her head to meet his gaze, instead her attention remained on the babe who was squirming to suckle on the newly released teat pressed against his face. After Robb had latched she answered,

"Of course Ned, please" gesturing him to continue speaking.

"I know it's difficult for you to forgive my sister for her actions and I can see you are trying" his grey eyes boring into her blue with an intense wanting of empathy, "but if it is not too much to ask, please try a little harder?"

Catelyn huffed a sigh of resignation, "Forgive me Ned, it's just this war. It killed so many, too many. People I loved died Ned, my Uncle, I-I well of course I loved him so much."

"I know Cat, I know." He had come to sit next to her on the bed now, his hand resting on his shoulder offering her some kind of security.

"I'll try harder though of course" she turned to kiss him chastely on the cheek, "my lord husband asked it of me and it would not do well to deny him. Would it?"

Ned kissed her this time. Really kissed her, like he had all those nights ago in the Riverlands. He remembers their wedding night fondly. It had not been what either of them had initially wanted but want and need are two totally different things.

_She is beautiful, he had always thought so. "Even when she had been Brandon's" Ned thought with guilt. It was truth though; he remembered seeing her at Harrenhal dressed in the finest blue gown he had ever seen. It brought out the red shine of her hair and the creamy glow of her skin perfectly but she had been looking at her brother with dreamy eyes while he looked on at the Royal dais with dreamy eyes of his own, though Brandon's were undoubtedly filled more with the knowing lust of a well practiced man. Ned wondered briefly if Brandon had been looking at his Ashara and was momentarily filled with a jealous anger that was quickly squashed by the fact that he was now at the feast of his wedding to Catelyn Tully, **Brandon's** Catelyn Tully and men's voices were booming "Bed them!", "To Bed!" from all over the hall._

_A giggling gaggle of girls surrounded him almost as quickly as a group of men had began tearing Catelyn's clothes off her body. He remembered feeling something stirring inside him like perhaps he should rip their arms off and defend her honour by making them avert their eyes instead of oggling at her so crudely. Then Ned saw how her back remained straight the entire time and though her face was flushed a beautiful pink her chin stay tilted upwards, high and proud like a true highborn lady. "She's the perfect Lady Stark of Winterfell" Ned thought to himself then, "Father couldn't have chosen better."_

_He hadn't taken much notice of his own situation until he felt a breeze against his manhood. He froze on the spot though ladies of all ages young and old were pushing and pulling him down the hallway towards his wedding chambers, there were more giggles as he felt the blood rushing to his face._

_"Nothing to be embarrassed about my Lord" a pretty little maid that Ned could not recognize whispered to him encouagingly, "it seems Ice is not the only greatsword of House Stark" then she gave him a mischievious grin before errupting into laughter with the rest of the gaggle. The comment didn't help his blush, he had heard Ashara say such things about his manhood before but never so shamefully like this. He tried to cover himself as best as possible but this apparently only encouraged more laughing._

_He was pushed through a door that was quickly shut behind him, another loud ring of girls' laughter following the abrupt slam. The room was dark lit by only two candles that sat either side of the large bed where Catelyn's naked form sat, arms and blankets wrapped defensively around her. The blankets had however slipped revealing more of her bare legs than she probably intended. It had fallen down her shoulders as well, resting just above her collar bone. Her red hair was loose and free now, dancing around her in the warm Riverrun winds making an already flustered Ned burn more. Men of the North had always loved red hair, believed it to be lucky, kissed by fire, if that were true Catelyn Tully was surely the luckiest woman in the world and she was burning Eddard Stark alive._

_"Are you well my lady? You aren't hurt are you?" He finally managed after staring at her like some fool for what felt like hours._

_"I am fine my lord, will you sit with me?" He nodded, though he chose to sit on the edge of the bed rather than right next to her. Her brows furrowed and she inched a little closer towards him which startled a slight jump out of him. Then, silence. An awkward silence that felt to have lasted an eternity. Ned cursed himself for never being able to speak when it came to women. Ashara had been different; she was bold and so sure of herself. She didn't need him to fill the silences for there were none. Thinking of her only made things worse though, thinking of her made it hard for him to think of his lady wife, a wife that deserved the love of her husband. Ashara was gone now, along with the babe she carried, the babe he would never get to know. It did not do well to dwell on the past._

_"Is there another my lord, is that what makes this so difficult for you?" Ned was so shocked by the sudden statement that he nearly fell off the bed. He panicked not knowing what to do or say. He tried to think quickly of any advice Robert or Brandon had ever given him about talking to women. A voice reminiscent to Brandon told him "Stand as tall and as straight as you can so you can feign looking down into her eyes when really you're looking down into her dr-" No, no, no. Ned internally cut the voice off, that advice will do him no good in this situation. "Tell her whatever she wants to hear to get inside her quicker" Gods Robert was even worse. "Women like the truth Ned, even when it could hurt the truth is always what we want to hear." Ashara had told him that once he remembered, Ashara was a woman perhaps she had the right of it._

_"Yes." He braced himself for her wrath but it never came. Instead he heard her release a sigh of relief before continuing in a colder more serious voice._

_"And do you plan on taking her for a paramour when we return to Winterfell?"_

_"What!? Of course not! I would never" he paused rethinking what he was about to say, "I could never."_

_Catelyn looked baffled and somewhat concerned as though she was worried for his happiness? "What do you mean my lord?"_

_Ned inhaled thinking back to the advice Ashara had indirectly given him. Honesty. "The woman I loved is dead my lady. Died in childbirth with our babe." Ned didn't stammer or falter but his words were said in haste, he didn't wish to dwell on them too long._

_"I'm sorry for your loss my lord." She answered. Ned searched her face for any kind of spite or ill-meaning but there was none. Only familiar understanding, he finally understood now that he was not the only one who had brought ghosts to their wedding bed._

_"I too am sorry for yours, my lady." It was Catelyn's turn now to startle and though it was dark Ned could see her blush return violently._

_"It is more your loss than mine, my lord." Though she thought it to be true Eddard doubted it. He had seen the way she had looked at Brandon at Harrenhal regardless of the rumours of his whoring and his obvious affections for someone else at the Tourney. She had fancied herself in love with Brandon like he had with Ashara. Though he doubted Brandon would've ever loved Catelyn the way Ashara loved Ned or that her love with Brandon would've been consummated the way he had consummated his repetitively with Ashara, Catelyn had been brewing her love for Brandon for many years while his and Ashara's had struggled to last one. To her, her love was true. Eddard loved his brother but he often loved to hate him. Brandon was too wild, too rush. It often didn't grind well with the calm and solemn Ned._

_"You loved Brandon my lady; I know I am not him but I hope I do not disappoint you." It was truth but he hoped it was the right thing to say to make her happy._

_She looked at him and smiled so brightly he could see it even in the dark of night. Catelyn Tully was beginning to look more and more beautiful by the second and the once so haunting ghost was slowly starting to drift away, though it never would truly disappear. "You certainly do not disappoint me my lord."_

_"Please my family and friends call me Ned." He offered her a smile of his own though he highly doubted it was nearly as beautiful as hers. She seemed to truly appreciate it though, like it was the first smile he had given her? Had it been? Surely he was not so cold._

_"Mine call me Cat." Her smile widened at the familiarity they were building with each other. They talked for hours about everything, until the candles burned out. She told him of her life in Riverrun and he told her of his in the North and the Eyrie, she told him of her siblings and he of his and after many rounds of sharing their deepest most personal thoughts and experiences Cat asks,_

_"Who was she Ned? The lucky woman who won your heart?" There was no cruel undertone in her voice, he was glad the honesty he had shared with her had granted them such a bond already._

_"Her name was Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall." Though the name haunted him it seemed right to tell Cat now and the way she was looking at him with such understanding and empathy he knew it to be so._

_"Truly?" The astonishment in her voice told Ned she had heard tales of Ashara Dayne's beauty or seen it for himself and he couldn't help but give off a slight chuckle._

_"Do you think me a liar Lady Stark?"_

_She laughed now. "No of course not, it's just I remember seeing her at Harrenhal, she was so beautiful and well you -"_

_"Forgive me my lady but are you calling me ugly?" He joked to which he earned him a melodious giggle, nothing like the cackles of the silly women earlier. He had not made a woman laugh like that before; Ashara had treated him like a silly greenboy and laughed at him heartily like his sister would. Cat laughed because she thought he was funny. Cat was alot more gentle than Ashara, Cat was more like him where Ashara was more the predator like Brandon._

_The kiss had suprised him. Her hand had searched his face for his chin and turned his head to kiss her. She was not too forward; she hadn't done much more than pressed her soft full lips to his. That had been enough to get his blood boiling again though, Ashara had taught him well the pleasures love making could bring. He wanted to bring his sweet Cat such pleasures; though the guilt of Ashara's memory still dampened his mood Ned felt the encouragement her words had given him earlier must have been a sign that Ashara would want him to be happy. She always had._

_"Ned?" she whispered to which he hummed in response. "I know you loved Ashara my lord and I know I am not her but I hope I do not disappoint -"_

_Ned kissed the remaining words right out of her mouth. He knew what she was going to say, he knew she was saying words of comfort and understanding. "She's just like me" Ned thought to himself. He thought of how her house words had always sung to him. Family. Honour. Duty. He could think of no three things more important and he was sure his wife agreed._

_He made love to her three times in the hours remaining, before the sun rose. They slept not one minute the entire night. When he left her the next day he felt a new love blooming in his heart replacing the old ache that his stolen love's had left. And she felt a new life blooming in her stomach._

"Ned?" Cat managed to murmur through the building desperation of his kisses. "You're squashing our son"

He halted and quickly withdrew once he realised Robb had been kicking against him. Cat laughed prettily and moved to put Robb down in the bassinette by their bed. Ned stalked behind cooing adoringly at his son whose head and arm lay over his mother's shoulder. Robb smiled at him, his blue eyes warming Ned's heart more than anything he's ever known before. Cat placed him down gently and began humming some southron tune to him. To Ned's complete shame instead of the image giving him a fatherly pride it gave him more of a primal want for his son's mother.

"I need you to support my decision to forgive my sister Cat."

"And I assured you I will try much harder to." Robb was down and settled now so Ned grabbed her tightly around the shoulders to turn her. She seemed surprised though she didn't seem to struggle. He began gently pressing butterfly kisses all over her neck.

"I need you to be my family and love my family Cat." His words becoming more husky with desperation and want. Her breathing was becoming ragged which only urged Ned on more. He nipped at her earlobes and began rubbing her breasts in small circular strokes which earned him the tiniest whimper.

"And I assured you I will try much harder to." She repeated with a smirk, something close to wanton by the way her teeth bite at her lip.

"I need you Cat." He had all but ripped the fabric of her dress now so that the heavy weight of her breasts rested in his hands. _Gods they're so big_ he tried calculating how much they had grown since she had begun lactating but her moans caused him to lose focus on less frivolous things.

"I need you Ned."

He knew that there was much more to discuss but Ned had never been good with words. Now seemed to be a time for action anyhow and besides the Starks could always use a bigger pack.


	10. Arthur I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update guys. Will try to update weekly now that I'm on top of life, studies etc  
> Please review and comment, even negative feedback is appreciated :)

Arthur Dayne - 283AL Somewhere in The Reach

His head hurt even as it lay on a feather pillow. He reluctantly opened his eyes feeling the weight next to him shift. _Leave before she wakes_. He thought not wanting to be there when the woman he'd stumbled into bed with had woken. She was a beautiful woman with dark silk hair, skin that had been tanned by the sun and big cat shaped eyes. Her body had curves in all the right places, big enough to fill even in his large hands and her voice was soft and sweet when she moaned his name all through the night. He should enjoy waking next to a woman as truly comely as she was but it was all wrong. Nothing about her was dark enough; her hair and eyes were brown (a pretty brown that was somewhere between gold and the darkest mahogany) not the deep endearing black that he so desired, her skin was kissed by the sun to an almost gold yet his heart kept yearning for a deep bronze and though her eyes were the right shape (perhaps even the right size, though he doubted it, the one who keeps his heart has eyes more vast and as dark and somehow bright as the starry skies of Starfall) but once open they again betrayed the memory he was trying so hard to restore. The more he thought about it the easier it became for him to find differences he was far too drunk to see last night. She was too tall, her body too full, her lips not full enough, her breasts were far too big, her smile was not warm and radiant and that was merely the start. Arthur Dayne had been in love with Elia Martell since he was a small boy of no more than eight and she a girl of ten, it would never be hard for him to tell the difference between her and any other woman, even her own reflection. He could remember the first time he met her like it were yesterday (though mayhaps that was not a good example as a clear memory of yesterday was managing to evade him).

_His family had been called to the Water Gardens by the Crowned Princess Loreza to celebrate the name day of Prince Doran. Both Arthur and Ashara had marvelled in awe at the splendour of the gardens with eyes full of wonder. Never before had they seen a garden like this; paved with marble of pale pink and pearl white, terracotta coloured mansions with huge terraces overlooking the numerous crystal clear pools and fountains, exotic flowers of every colour and scent grew wildly and free (unlike the well kept flowerbeds of Highgarden) and the children of every man and woman, noble and baseborn within this magical place all played together merrily, laughing and shrieking in delight. He had never seen anything so amazing, so stunning, so like the heavens until he saw her._

_"Arthur? Ashara?" His Lady Mother prompted for them to step forward so she might introduce them to the Princes and Princess of Dorne but Arthur couldn't stop looking at this little princess, and for the life of him he didn't know why, no other girl had made him look at her so. "Arthur?" His mother repeated. Oh Gods what a fool he must have looked. How long had he been standing there for? Just gaping at her like one of the stupid fish in these ponds, she must think he was some kind of a creep. And yet when he looked into those eyes, so impossibly full of emotion, he couldn't bring himself to care. She was too perfect not to look at. His mother obviously becoming irritated by his inability to move or even respond gave him a slight shove forward and dropped into an elegant curtsey._

_"Your Graces, might I present to you my two youngest children, Ashara and Arthur."_

_"Come now children" the Crowned Princess replied as she prompted her youngest forward with a gentle push "doesn't Lady Dayne just make the most beautiful children in all of Dorne?" The smile that was wide on her face told Arthur his Princess believed her words to be true._

_"You are too kind Your Grace, but surely no one shines as brightly as our sweet Princess." Although Arthur didn't want to disagree with the monarch he's only just met he couldn't help but agree with his mother. Ashara was gorgeous people said, like the maiden reborn but perhaps those people had never met the little princess he had yet to learn the name of. He cursed himself for never paying attention to the maester during his lessons and instead opting for training in swordplay._

_But sure enough in time her name became a mantra to him. A prayer of some sorts. Ellie, sweetest, purest Ellie._

"Arthur?" A voice murmured from beneath the tousled hair around him. _Shit_ he cursed himself.

"Forgive me my Lady I did not mean to wake you"

"No Ser Arthur, you only meant to leave before I woke." The sentence as true and expected as it was cut him more than it should have. He used to be so different. Like an Arryn of the Eyerie, "As high as Honour" and here he was shaming noble women, sullying their good family names to help ease the pain he himself had caused.

"Forgive me my Lady I never meant to dishonour you"

"But you did and now you are leaving!" Her tears were the last thing Arthur needed. The women in his life never cried. Not his Mother, not Ashara and certainly not Elia. They were too strong and too stubborn for tears.

"Please my Lady I dishonoured us both by breaking my vows and defiling your -"

"Who is Ellie?" She all but shrieked, hysteria heavily laced in the question.

Silence for what lasted minutes followed. How could he have been so drunk that he even murmured "Ellie" out loud but then thinking on it how could he not. She was all he wanted and all he could never have. For as long as it had always been, it would always be that way.

"Ellie was a woman of Dorne that I loved" was the answer he finally decided on. He would not lie if he did not have to but he also could not afford to tell a woman he scorned his deepest secret in complete truth.

"And you had the audacity to call me this woman! What was she?! A whore?!"

He couldn't help the reaction. His hand was at her throat and her feet off the ground before he had even blinked. _How dare she speak of Elia that way?_ An inner voice taunted, enraging him further in to tightening his grip. She kicked and squirmed, finger nails digging in to his hand, her eyes filling with tears. And then he saw that pleading look all women seemed capable of. Even the she wolf he found so hard to hate. He dropped her almost gently and thought to perhaps comfort her but it was too late to be gentle with her now. She was petrified of this monster she must surely think he was.

"Forgive me my Lady and please forget any of this ever happened." He didn't wait for her to reply; he gathered his things as quickly as possible and left as fast as he could. The Lady he had just left in no doubt a mess belonged to House Oakheart so in the process of soiling the memory of his deceased love he danced on the grave of his ancestors. The shame was almost too much to bare so he kicked at the sides of his steed and urged the beast to take him to Sunspear with haste.

It was a few days before he finally arrived. There was no one waiting to take his horse like there had been every other time he returned to Dorne's capital but then this time was not like every other time. The wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen to Lyanna Stark had hardly waited until he reached the outskirts of the Crownlands. News had surely travelled to Doran by now and he certainly would not be pleased. People believed Doran Martell to be a placid man of an understanding nature and while this was so Arthur doubted very much that Doran would understand this time. Elia was the centre of both her brother's worlds'. She was the sun which they revolved around; her gravity kept them in sync, kept them in control. For sure Doran would not make a public scene of emotional roars and almost childish tantrums like Oberyn would but what Doran would do is far more snake-like, far more troublesome. He will silently recoil in to background, blending in to his surrounding so his enemy become comfortable, become weak. Then he will strike at a moment of weakness and before his victim has even realised it, the poison has seeped in too deep for it not to end in fatality.

"Arthur Dayne" A deep voice hissed in almost a challenging fashion. Arthur didn't need to see who had addressed him. Only one man could pour so much venom in to one's own name that said man would be happy to hear it never again.

"Prince Oberyn" Arthur bowed in the direction of the figure that seemed to have manifested from almost no where. He could feel the Prince's glare burning the back of his head. _He hates me_ Arthur concluded sadly, he and Prince Oberyn had been friends once, almost brothers. But that was then, before you let them burn her alive, this is now, now that she's dead.

"Follow me, Doran is expecting you" and before Arthur had the chance to properly register what was said Oberyn took off as quick as a shadow running from the light. He got to his feet in such haste he felt the blood rush through his body. Oberyn had always been as quick to vanish as he was to appear. Although after turning down a few corridors Arthur knew exactly where they were going.

Doran's Solar had not changed much in the many years he had not seen it. For sure there had to be more books but everything was exactly the same. Everything put in it's exact place, where it belonged. Doran Martell if anything was an organized man, his Solar was a tribute to his pedantic behaviour. Windows filtered in light from every angle revealing maps upon maps of what looked to be Essos spread out across the huge marble desk of the Lord of Sunspear.

"Ser Arthur, I take it you have come with word from Rhaegar Targaryen as to how he wishes to make amends for the most recent offence he has committed against my family." It was not a question; Arthur knew it to be an informed statement. None the less he nodded his head and murmured a weak "Yes my Prince" before dropping his head in shame.

"He has annulled his marriage to Elia." Again not a question but Arthur swallowed hard and answered again with a nod and a mouse-like "Yes my Prince".

"Then you may return to King's Landing with this letter Ser Arthur. Now go quickly, for you are an enemy of Dorne, Kingsguard." Arthur looked at the sealed parchment in his hand, confused and unable to respond.

"My Prince" he started but the words died in his mouth upon seeing the burning carnage of Doran's eyes. He bowed as low as he could, for he knew it would be the last time he would ever bow before the Prince of his own people again. Oberyn escorted him back to the main entrance of the Tower of the Sun in silence before he seemed to huff in exasperation, seeming tired of the annoyance and anger he felt.

"She loved you, you know. She always loved you." His heart broke with in his chest; the tears fell freely from his eyes. He wanted so badly to scream out his torment for the world to hear, to slash this viper princeling to shreds of meat for his obvious disdain and annoyance for the truth in the words he had spoken. How he wished he could turn back time and refuse to aid Rhaegar on his twisted endeavor of fate and prophesies. He had only wanted to push the wedge between Rhaegar and Elia deeper. He had only wanted to run away with Elia, he thought he was setting their course in the direction of togetherness, not eternal separation.

"Pull yourself together Arthur, this is disgusting." Arthur shook with both fury and internal pain as Oberyn hoisted him from his knees to his feet again. He couldn't fathom how the Red Viper could be empathetic with him at such a time. Perhaps a part of Elia lives on in Oberyn after all. "Come on you fool you're embarrassing me." There, that was more the Oberyn he was used to.

"I chose this damn cloak to impress her" he heard himself say. _Get a grip Arthur! This is entirely unbecoming!_ He couldn't stop now though, the dam holding his emotions had finally been broken and the flood that followed threatened to be never ending. "I was never good enough to wed her, the second son of a lesser house. I thought I could win her admiration though, some kind of distant love." He sobbed helplessly like a babe on his mother's shoulder as Oberyn awkwardly tried to pat his back in a comforting gesture.

"Do shut up now Arthur, all of Sunspear is staring at us. They'll think I've dishonoured you like some blushing maid."

He would have laughed any other time, Oberyn's twisted sense of humour had never failed to put a smile on his face but this time his heart was too broken to care for laughter. The sun of his days was gone and now he was a traitor not only in his own heart but in the hearts of his own people. Oberyn held him by the shoulders and shook him rather furiously, as though to shake something out of him. He stopped only to look into Arthur's eyes, searching the way Elia used to. "Ellie would not want this Arthur. Ellie would wish you peace."

They were meant to be words of comfort but they only made it worse. Arthur had to compose himself though; the Red Viper only gives you so many life lines to recover yourself before he leaves you dead in the water. He would not shame himself anymore than he already has. Once he'd manage to get himself under control he decided it was time to give his condolences to his Prince, for the loss of the only woman either of them ever truly loved.

"I am sorry my Prince, for your loss. Princess Elia-"

"Is free now." Oberyn interrupted as he smiled towards the heavens. _What the hells is going on here?_ A voice inside him puzzled. This is not the Oberyn he knows at all. "Free" is not the word Oberyn Martell would use surely.

"Forgive me my Prince I do not un-"

"My sister is free now Arthur, she is no longer a slave to the Iron Throne or the King that sits on it" Oberyn laughed now, hearty and true with his head thrown back. If Arthur was confused by Oberyn's behaviour before he was truly lost now. "Dorne is free now Arthur, the Dornish are free." He said it in finality before he swooped down into a mocking bow that youngest Lord of Sunspear was infamous for. He turned quickly on his heels and left before Arthur even had a chance to breathe. Arthur stood still, unable to move. Shocked at the events that just took place. He expected more bite from the snakes, he expected them to spit more venom, but they were taking this loss better than even Rhaegar could have ever hoped. Then he remembered the letter.

He waited until he was atleast outside the walls of Sunspear before breaking the seal. He would explain to Rhaegar that he could not wait; the situation required him to read the parchment intended for the King of the Iron Throne. He had too many questions and was too confused. Rhaegar owed him this much.

_Rhaegar Targaryen,_

_You have insulted House Martell for the last time in your life and now it is time for the shame to be reciprocated. You will be Rhaegar Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Iron Throne, of the Andals and the First men but never of the Rhoynish or Dornish for I, Doran Nymeros Martell of Sunspear declare myself the King of Dorne. I will bend no knee and swear no fealty for I am a Martell and we are Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken._

_King Doran Nymeros Martell of Dorne  
First of his name, King of the Rhoynish._

Arthur couldn't control the laughter that rumbled in his chest. Rhaegar would never expect this, he wanted another marriage pact between Doran's daughter and his bastard son, and he expected Doran to wish for the same. How wrong he was. It seemed neither him nor Rhaegar had predicted the course of action Doran Martell would take but of course it only made logical sense that he would not bow. Arthur understood now why everything had been so calm with the snakes, after all it's always calmest before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit rushed. I have a lot of ground to make up so please bare with me :)


	11. Doran I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of my most telling chapters, if you learn to read between the lines. I had initially planned to make a huge jump in timeline but decided instead that some gaps needed filling in the mean time. Please review as always all criticism is welcome. And thank you for reading my AU :)

Doran Martell - 283AL Sunspear, Dorne.

What was he doing? Had he completely lost all sound of mind? He had to send a rider after Arthur and- No! This is the path he had chosen and once Doran Martell chose a path it was set in stone. Dorne had not had a King in hundreds of years but soon it would if everything ran smoothly and according to plan.

_The sun will always rise tomorrow Doran. Look to tomorrow and know I saw it with you._

It had been over 4 years since the death of his Mother but her words rung in his head as though she was speaking in the present. She had already cut the path and paved it in stone long before he could ever call himself the Crowned Prince of Dorne. She had told him tales when he was a boy of the mad dragons and their incapability to see what they truly are, destroyers. She had expressed closer to her death bed that for a King to be usurped it must be by another King.

_All dragons are mad Doran, even the ones that are born of the sun brew a darkness in their hearts but we must not hold this against them for it is only in their nature. Just be warned my sweet son, all dragons breathe fire._

Mother had spent many years at court with the Targaryens, she had observed them in their most private of habitats and come to learn their most darkest of secrets. She had come to distrust them. He remembered the worried look that never wavered from her face during Elia's wedding to Rhaegar. He remembers finding her in the sept, a candle lit for the Mother.

_"I beseech thee goddess, Mother of all, protect my Elia. Guide her to happiness. I beseech thee goddess, Mother of all, protect my Elia. Keep her safe from the dangers surrounding her. I beseech thee goddess, Mother of all, protect my Elia, and bring her eternal love one that is true, pure and sown deep in her heart. I beseech thee goddess, Mother of all, protect my Elia-"_

For hours his lady mother bowed on her knees, tears streaming down her face as she prayed, nay begged, to this statue of an Andal deity for the protection of his sister. If it had of been anyone else he would've thought it was nothing more than the hysterical cries of a mother who's most fragile child had finally left the nest but this was not anyone else. This was Loreza Nymeros Martell of Dorne, she begged for nothing, she cried to no one and she bowed **never**. Something she **knew** was causing her to behave this way. Something she saw coming. The a few years passed by all too quickly and by then his mother had been taken by the Gods to join his father in the afterlife forever. Elia's marriage to Rhaegar had become something of songs that his good brother sung frequently at feasts. Elia, he knew found Rhaegar's odes more comical than anything, a show for the onlookers.

 _"What we have is a deep seeded friendship Doran. A friendship that has grown in to a tall and strong tree."_ Elia always had a smile on her face and way of looking at the brighter side of things. Her marriage had no true love but she thrived on an honest friendship alone. Doran's heart ached that she would never have the love he was sure he had found in his Mellario but Elia was always quick to remind him that it was her own foolish heart that denied her true love for Rhaegar. Elia would always be dutiful, he'd think to himself but now-

Things had changed. Things had changed dramatically. Mother was right, all dragons are mad and all dragons destroy. Aerys had released his madness in the truest form of destruction with violence and rage fuelling the wildfire he used to murder his victims. Rhaegar's madness was indirect but very much a reality. How could someone so charming, so willing to please and protect turn in to the most graceless fool in all of history? _"It's these prophecies brother, you must understand, he **believes** them. Whole-heartedly and completely. He **believes** them."_ Madness, if he ever did hear it. A prophecy did not tell you to steal off in the middle of the night with the betrothed of your own kin without the knowledge of even her lord father. A prophecy did not tell you to so shamelessly humiliate a perfectly good wife who had done nothing but please you. A prophecy did not tell you to sit idle while your lord father proceeded to kill his own lords for a misunderstanding that should never have occurred. All dragons are mad, all dragons destroy. Even if it was never their intention to.

Surely all those times he'd listened to his mother's dreamwine induced rambles had not been simply imagined. _"A Prince promised is never a King for he is promised to be a Prince and that is all he can be."_ Useless, nothing but riddles and rhymes. _"A Mother of Dragons will never bear sons but a crown shall be forged for the Sun. The son of the true King must wear that crown for he is the King of Dorne; Kingdom of the Sun. Then and only then will summer surely come."_ More riddles, mindless and pointless drabbles of unconsciousness. Was she telling him to become a King instead of a Prince? For what purpose? None of it made sense. Was it even supposed to? Why then would mother invest so much in to the Iron Bank all these years? Why had father mended ties from the past to be able to have such pull in Braavos? Why had mother been communicating with the noble families of both Volantis and Qarth? What did she see tomorrow that he still cannot see today? _**"Listen** Doran. **Listen** to the words I say?"_ She was pleading with him to hear her, something she decided in sound mind was the most important thing he must know, and then all over again she would repeat her riddles, like she was repeating something she had heard and believed in herself. 

Prophecies. Such a plague to the logical. Doran was a practical man, calculated and precise. Organized and managed. He had no time or energy for such things. Especially when he was unsure of who this possibly false prophet was that fed his mother these words in the first place. A man trying to fulfil a prophecy almost destroyed a realm not too long ago, Doran did not want to be the next man to do such things.

"Brother" A voice addressed from no where. His brother had a knack of appearing just when the occasion called for it.

"Oberyn?"

"Send me to Essos." It was not a question, it was a demand. Doran did not bend well to demands.

"No." And with just that one dismissive word he had wounded his brother's ego.

"Do not think that now you call yourself a King you can talk to **me** in such a manner."

"You are not going to Essos and that is final." Doran knows repetition would only further infuriate his brother but he can not be bothered fighting with him when he is internally fighting himself.

"Why not!? Our sister-"

"Do not think to bring Elia in to this." Doran cut in abruptly. Elia has nothing to do with Oberyn's unwillingness to do his duty to his country, to his house, to his liege lord and brother. Oberyn is needed here and here is where he will stay.

"I want to go to Lys and then perhaps Volantis, I will not cross paths with-"

"Gods save it Oberyn you are so one minded! You are not going to Essos, you are needed here." Doran could predict what his brother was thinking, he knew exactly where he intended to go once he stepped foot in Essos. He could not afford to have Oberyn running loose at the moment when he had just started a rebellion for a cause he was still so unsure of.

"What Doran? What do you need me for?" The question was full of doubt and lacked any patience like most statements and questions that came from his little brother.

"I have just named myself a King, Oberyn-"

"Yes, and?" His brother's lack of patience was becoming more and more tiresome.

"The Yronwoods are not going to be pleased brother."

"What does it matter Doran? You were Crowned Prince when the feudal system was principality; you have merely tweaked our monarch slightly so now you are a King and Dorne a Kingdom. If anything they should be pleased that they no longer-"

"Oh for Gods sakes' Oberyn, how are you so blind? The Yronwoods have never been friends to the Martells. They may use this change in feudal system as a way to poison our bannermen against us. Kings are far easier to hate than Princes. People will die for this cause Oberyn, a cause they cannot possibly see the final destination to. Do they have enough love for me to die in my name?"

"Then why brother did you declare yourself King!? If you had such doubts could you not have kept it as it was?" This time the question was laced with confusion and worry. Doran wished he could answer the question without a doubt in his mind but for now that was impossible. He could only think of answering the question with his own question;

"Do you think Mother was ever mad?" Dumbfounded, Oberyn Martell was at a complete loss for words when words had never betrayed him. If Doran was a less controlled man he probably would have laughed at the shocked expression that now marred his brother’s face.

"What the hells has gotten in to you Doran?" He finally manages through the disbelief.

"Just answer will you?"

"Well of course not! Mother? Mad? Have you been touched?" The last part he emphasized with a dramatic hand gesture stemming from his temple, a feigned look of concern for Doran's sanity replacing the flabbergasted look that had been etched in to his face only mere seconds ago.

"Like you said of course she wasn't! So why then was she always telling me of Kings and this Kingdom of the Sun? Why brother was she so adamant that I listen to her words?"

"Wait, Doran what words? What are you talking about?" Of course Oberyn was confused, how could he not be when Doran had just gone off on a tangent of his own?

"On mother's death bed for days all she said to me were riddles and puzzles but brother she near begged me to listen to them. Take them in."

"Well out with it then, what did she say?"

"A Prince promised is never a King for he is promised to be a Prince and that is all he can be. A Mother of Dragons will never bear sons but a crown shall be forged for the Sun. The son of the true King must wear that crown for he is the King of Dorne; Kingdom of the Sun. Then and only then will summer surely come." Doran felt like a fool saying the words but Oberyn seemed to be truly mulling over them.

"Mother said something similar to me as well." Oberyn declared with the same knowing confidence he usually has. It frustrated Doran.

"What? When?"

"When the wild wolf howls and the Sun bleeds the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Winter is coming but summer will follow and the Sun will rise again. Mother said that to me the last two times I visited her, I thought it was the milk of poppy talking but like you said she was pleading me to listen, to remember. And then that Stark fool went to King's Landing and well, you know the rest." It wasn't the manner in which he said what he said, nor the context of what he was saying that annoyed Doran it was the fact that only **now** that nothing could be done he was being told.

"And why am I only learning this just now?"

"You to talk! Something as creepy as that should've been shared with all of us when it was said, surely!"

"How was I to tell you in firm confidence when what I had to say sounded like something from a myth?

"And what I said was not?"

"What mother told you had come to fruition!" Up to this point Doran hadn't truly risen his voice. Doran never yelled, he never felt he needed to but he was enraged and for once Oberyn did not dare be facetious or sarcastic.

"I had not realized it until just recently, truly. To be honest I had stored the memory in the recesses of my mind for I did not know what to believe of it at the time but, because it was mother I would never truly forget." Doran couldn't argue that for he himself had been guilty of the same thing. True he had obviously been more haunted by his mother's final words than his brother was but he had not truly taken action on them until just days ago. He could not blame his only little brother for sins he himself had committed.

"You are right brother, how were we to know mother was some mystical prophet?" That earned him the sly smirk he so loved to see playing on his brother's lips. 

"Rhaella Targaryen was your mystical prophet brother."

"Mother told you-"

"Nay, I read. In one of the many letters mother sent to and from the Rock, Lady Lannister mentioned a series of violent dreams that Rhaella Targaryen had experienced. Apparently the late Queen was almost possessed by something else when she relayed prophetic drabbles and suffered from severe depression and bouts of crying afterwards. The Lady Lion predicted her own demise in one of her letters to mother explaining one of the premonitions Queen Rhaella suffered."

What? Was this all just the madness of the dragons again? Or was this truly some kind of message from the Gods? Why did this have no logical solution? Although all of these questions were swimming about his mind fighting for dominance over each other one plagued him the most.

"If you had only remembered what mother said to you just now Oberyn, explain to me how exactly you know so much about something you apparently cared so little for?" Nothing. Oberyn was only ever this silent when he had been caught doing something he was not supposed to do.

"Well brother I may have mentioned it to our sister and taken it upon myself to look further in to it after she had told me of her last words with mother but my investigations began only mere months ago"

"Months!? Months! How dare you keep such secrets for months! And what was it mother said to Elia Oberyn?" Oberyn was reduced to the little boy who was so easily scolded for throwing blood oranges at all the girls at the Water Gardens. After father died no one was capable of reprimanding him so bar Doran. He wouldn't cower for his pride would never allow it but the loud confidence of his voice would quiet and the defiant spark in his eyes would diminish.

"Do not seek to fulfil prophecies that are destined to come to truth. Time is the master of all Gods designs." He paused to buy himself time to find some kind of a reason behind his lack of communication. "I wanted to tell you sooner Doran I swear it, but Elia convinced me I shouldn't. Told me mother wouldn't want us to chase after such things. Mother had told her **not** to chase after such things." Oberyn's answer struck Doran to his core. A Prince is not hated as much as a King and all this talk of rightful Kings had managed to play on his mind as well. This was not the course of action mother had intended him to take but it was already too late. Dorne will become the Kingdom she had spoke of and for now it will have a King, however unrightfully dubbed he may be.

"Stay with me brother" Doran hadn't meant to sound so imploring but for once he was concerned that perhaps he had made a mistake, "I need you."

"Well when you put it like that brother" and there it was, that sly snakish smirk Doran so loved. "Of course I'll stay when I'm needed so."

He was grateful his brother had decided to stay. He was hopeful that perhaps he could talk Oberyn in to much, much more. When men took it upon themselves to fulfil the wants of seemingly silent Gods, the realm bled for it and sacrifices were made like lambs to the slaughter. Who had been unknowingly sacrificed this time? Doran could only pray it would not be one of their own.


	12. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler but I just wanted to lay the foundations for my future original characters :) hope you guys don't mind that a certain character in this chapter closely resembles another in previous ones. In time it will pan out. Shippers gonna ship even when the ships not there yet :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains coarse language

Jaime Lannister - 284AL Casterly Rock

It had been just over a year since the last rebellion had been squashed and a new one took its place. Only a year and here he was sitting at the end of his wife's death bed. Melodie Sarsfield was a good woman. Jaime of course had never truly loved her, he only had enough room in his heart for Cersei as she always demanded all of it. Melodie had been a good friend though with a kind heart and although people thought her quiet and timid she was truly sharp of wit and fierce when necessary. Father had mentioned that to Jaime on a few occasions and although it was said as if it were a passing statement, it was a compliment from Tywin Lannister none the less. Cersei hated her of course but Jaime hated the Tyrell heir so it was only fair. He had tried his best for the majority of his short marriage to Melodie to not seem distant whenever his sister was around - though Cersei had not often visited since she married the horse-fucking Tyrell as she so often put it, however when Cersei did visit Jaime would have all sorts of slights, mostly imagined to make up for. Melodie was beginning to bloom in to her pregnancy the last time Cersei had come to visit, only a few moon turns past. His sweet sister had come under the guise of wanting to help her good sister with preparations for the babe; Melodie didn't buy it at all.

_"You know you can tell me anything don't you Jaime?" He didn't mind that she never addressed him as anything else other than Jaime in private. He felt it made what they had more honest, although he knew how much of a lie it truly was._

_"I know Melodie; may I ask why you would say such a thing my sweet lady wife?" He also didn't mind the way she would scrunch up her nose when he would use mocking terms of endearment. Aye, Melodie was no fool she knew a lie when she heard it._

_"Your relationship with your sister is much, deeper than I first realized when we wed." That he didn't like. Melodie had a way of observing things, taking note of every detail and remembering it to a tee. She would then internally analyze the situation and come to a conclusion that was often very right._

_"Melodie, you look too hard at things that are not there." A joke and a smile worked with most women, even the very best fall for a good enough joke and a big enough smile._

_"Do not mock me Jaime Lannister!" Melodie obviously was not most women or she had good enough reason to think such seemingly ludicrous things._

_"Mock you? Why Melodie Lannister you are simply mocking yourself." What the fuck Jaime? Are you trying to get shot? He chastened himself for even thinking the words but it was too late._

_"I am a 'Sarsfield first and foremost' remember? But never forget Sarsfield’s are always 'True to the Mark'!" She had heard him. Somehow when he was with Cersei in the gardens she had- Oh Gods had she seen them? He had to find a way to cover this up._

_"Melodie, I did not mean-"_

_"Oh of course you did not mean to offend me Jaime but, you will continue to offend me **still** because you will not stop lying, will you? I know Jaime, I **know** but I thought if I could not have your love I might at least have your trust. I see now I was wrong." And just like that the fight was over. Sarsfield’s fired only one shot but it was often so true to the mark a second was never needed._

She never brought it up again, never so much as blinked when Cersei's name was mentioned in conversation but she knew, and that alone was enough for the guilt to eat Jaime alive now. She had been such a good wife, she never complained about anything, she maintained the Rock during war while he and his father were aiding the Reach during the many dornish pillages they suffered. Melodie had even been so intuitive as to answer his letters for him, never failing to know exactly what was necessary to say. That was until she came across a letter sealed with a roaring lion on a blazing sun.

_"Prince Oberyn Martell's wife has given birth to his first son; Prince Lewyn Nymeros Martell of Dorne. It seemed congratulations were in order so I sent a discrete reply. Nothing too telling of course." Gods he hated how she did that! Why did she always have to discover him? Why could she not just keep her nose out of things? And above all why did she have to be so damned perfect?_

_"Tyrion was sending ravens when it arrived. He said he had only seen the seal once before when he was reading letters addressed to your late lady mother. What was I meant to do Jaime? Tell him he was wrong? Tyrion is far more lion than he looks you know." Fuck the Gods this woman does no wrong! Not only had she done what was expected, what was dutiful, she went above and beyond all expectations whenever it came to Tyrion. Before he could speak she pushed that little bit further;_

_"In a few days Jaime, I will have your babe in my arms. By then I had hoped to have figured you out but then something else comes along and it seemes I have completely missed the target again."_

_"You speak riddles Melodie, say what you mean." He quickly bit his tongue knowing that such comments often did not ignite happiness in scorned women._

_However instead of screaming and raving on, fuming like a predator who failed to ensnare their prey, she smiled. Perhaps not the most beautiful or dazzling he had ever seen but the kind that was soothing and gentle. The ones that he had only ever seen from wise mothers. "I just get the feeling that you **are** a good man Jaime Lannister. A true knight from the stories."_

He wished he could see that smile again, he wished he could hear someone say that again. He remembered once a Princess had told him the exact same thing and before her his own mother had told him something hauntingly similar. Jaime never wanted to lie and sneak around like a thief in the night. He only wished to be free to love who he loves, to help those who deserved it. To protect the weak, save the innocent and love who you wish because your heart cannot deny it. Why did he always have to fuck it up? Half of Westeros quietly snigger at him behind his back "Oathbreaker"; the boy who cried wolf to his father. Fuck that! He would've stayed in that Kingsguard if it meant he did not have to suffer seeing another woman fall because of her lord husband failed to do what he was supposed to do. He would've stayed in the Kingsguard if he knew he would still see Cersei as often as he does now, seeing as Rhaegar was always in the Reach and his Kingsguard are forever in tow. He just couldn't handle the constant pressure to lie so he bent to the wills of his father and that rat Pycelle. Why did he lie in the first place?

_"Promise me Jaime, promise me."_

_**Fuck!**_ Why was everything always so conflicting? Gods forgive me for never knowing what to do though you grant me the position to make such important decisions. Gods forgive me for lying because the truth is a concept I know not of. Gods why do I love Cersei Lannister, my golden twin sister? Gods made her so perfect to me, how could I have ever denied her? Gods fuck you for making it so, for you made me the way I am; my heart, my soul, my entire being. Fuck you for always taking my good intentions and punishing those who do not deserve it while the wicked live in luxury and comfort. Fuck what is he even talking about Gods probably do not exsist! Either that or they just think him a complete joke. Suddenly a tiny knock came from his chamber door disturbing his dead silence and deep thought.

"Come in Tyrion." The guards opened the door for his tiny little brother had no hope in ever reaching the handle. Jaime should have known Tyrion would come sooner rather than later, and surely enough here he was with an array of the most beautiful summer flowers the Westerlands had to offer. His face more twisted than usual with a look of pure grief burning in the tears of his eyes and pain etched in the lines of his face.

Tyrion said nothing; the only sound was that of the pitter patter of tears hitting the stone floor as they ran freely from his eyes. He walked slowly to the bed as if each step further acknowledged that Melodie was truly gone, dead forever. Once he reached her he kissed her bashfully on the cheek, whispered words only meant for her and began threading the most luminescent moonblooms all through her wild and tightly curled earth brown hair. Tyrion and she often did such foolish things. Picking flowers; braiding each other’s hair, reading histories of the world together by firelight. Foolish things that Jaime remembers doing with his mother during the secrecy of night or when no one was looking. Melodie was the mother Tyrion never got to meet but the one he had never known he always had. No one spoke to Tyrion of their mother for fear of how father would react, but father had chosen a wife for Jaime that was much too like the wife he had lost to be simply a coincident.

"Have you even looked upon your twins Jaime?" _His_ twins, no he hadn't yet looked upon _his_ twins. Yet another factor to add to his guilt. He and his babes killed Melodie, the foolish woman refused to have it any other way. She was giving him an heir and that was all there was to it, she would do her duty to Casterly Rock and House Lannister and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

"I have not" he replied resignedly. He was met by a cold silence and then finally a stern word.

"Sometimes you can be so like him it's frightening."

"Do not compare me-"

"I shall compare where the comparison is obvious!" Tyrion interrupted with a roar. "Do not think to blame them for something you did! They did not impregnate their mother and bring themselves in to existence!"

"You think I blame those babes for anything?" He didn't, of course he didn't. They were surely just as good and innocent as their mother.

" _Your_ babes Jaime! **Your** babes!" He sounded so frustrated but Jaime could understand why. They were born more than two days ago and still he hadn't even truly seen them. Why didn't he love them like they deserved to be loved? Like a father should love his children. "How could one know what to think when your secrets are so dark and your heart too locked shut?" That piqued an interest in Jaime's mind, how much had his brother discovered? How many secrets were not so secret after all?

"Just go brother, go to them, and hold them. Look into their sweet faces and see that they are you and they are her and you are all they have now. She trusted you enough to leave them in your care; you owe it to her to not fail her again. You owe it to yourself to not fail _yourself_ again." Tyrion rose to his feet so he stood on his chair leaning forward to press a kiss to Melodie’s left cheek, a kiss to her right cheek and then finally a longing kiss to her forehead. A spark of jealousy flickered inside Jaime much to his disgust, Tyrion was only mourning for some one he loved. Not some romantic love that could be tainted with sins and lies, a pure kind of love that family have for one another, unconditional and simple. Jaime however hated the idea of anyone kissing Melodie, even though he had never truly wanted to do so himself, even though he had always wanted to kiss someone else. She was his wife and no one else could touch her. Lions have a fierce sense of pride and loyalty, although for Jaime it was rather warped and twisted it was still very much there.

Tyrion descended from his seat took Melodie's right hand and pressed a kiss to it whispering one last good bye before he knocked on the door again to be let out. Again Jaime was left alone to his thoughts and memories. Melodie looked so peaceful, her face soft, mouth set in the tiniest of smiles, hair spread out around her like a wild mane of curls laced with a lunar flowers that made her look all too ethereal. No one could ever say she was ugly, hers was not a stunning beauty but it was classic and timeless. Though her arms and thighs were more muscular than he preferred, they showed her strength and ability and that was something he quite admired about her.

Many times he had watched as she would fire arrow after arrow and each would hit dead in the centre of their target. Every time she took aim something in her eyes told him she had found her mark. _Sarsfields_ he often mocked, _"True to the Mark"_. He hadn't realized he was crying until the tears began to wet his knees. Gods she was such a good woman, so honourable and fair in judgement. He was sure there was only one other in the world like that. Why was it women of their kind are fated to have such unhappiness in marriage? Surely they deserved far better. All of a sudden a flush of emotion came over him, he stood abruptly inclining his head slightly to the corpse of the only woman he would ever wrong and all but ran out the door.

When his feet finally reached the nursery he had spent the first years of his life in, he stood frozen in the open doorway. There they were; laying together in the same bassinette he and his own twin had shared. Golden tufts of hair vibrantly reflecting the sun. Gods they looked so small and feeble, how could they have ever caused such pain? A small mewling sound came from the littlest one with a few tufts of tightly curled hair, the colour the same as his own. The tiniest of smiles hidden in the corners of her pouty little mouth lay waiting on her lips. Her eyes though only just open spoke of a dark pine green of deep forests, not the striking pale glare of the predatory lion that he so despised. His daughter, she is him and she is Melodie and he is all she has. He swore in the moment he cradled her in his arms that she would be a princess of stories and he her valiant knight. He would never fail this sweet babe of his, the princess of his heart, for she is surely his only redemption in the eyes of the Gods. His sweet little Joan of the Rock. And then a roar rumbled from his son as though he had been angered from being left unaddressed for so long, he was so stern and commanding. Everything from the look in his eyes to the crease in his tiny brow was serious. Melodie as always, True to the Mark, had given the Rock their little Lion. Jaime promised to teach him truth and build him in every way he was lacking; the boy was so much like his mother how could honour not come naturally? He hoped for vanity's sake that the boy could wield a sword like his father, for Jaime Lannister regardless of what any craven said behind his back was one of the best swordsmen in Westeros. This son of his let out another mighty roar as though commanding his father to put him back next to his sister, _"More lion than he looks you know."_ Ha! Father will not like this but father has no say in the matter when he knows it's what Melodie would have wanted. The babe squirmed and complained in his arms but Jaime could only look at him and chuckle

"My fierce little Tyrion, let us pray that you are nothing like your father and everything like your mother."


	13. Rhaegar IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait :/ been super busy but I aim to finish what I started :)  
> Anyway this is majority flash backs, sorry for any offensive language and as always I own nothing.

Rhaegar 285 AL - Summerhall

He had ridden to Summerhall a week past, knowing that the time was coming. As he lay amongst the charred ruins, something that reminded him of the Red Keep not more than one year ago, he gazed to the heavens at the red full moon. _Rhaenys_ he thought to himself, tears forming unbidden. Not often did he allow his thoughts to drift to his sweet daughter, he was usually too consumed with guilt to allow himself memory of her. Though on this particular night of the year he found he could not escape her ghost. Seven years ago, seven full red moons ago, his sweetest girl was brought into the world;

_He was not allowed to enter unless asked to do so. Men were not wanted or needed in the birthing chamber, besides he wasn't sure he could stomach seeing Elia in such pain. His mother and Lady Ashara however, had refused to leave his wife's side but that did not compensate for the lack of Elia's own mother's presence._

_"Maamaa" she called as though her voice would carry on the wind to Dorne; "Mama! Please!" Hearing Elia's painful pleas made him feel more helpless, more useless, than he had ever felt before. Rhaegar could only slump down in his seat by the door his head in his hands and tears in his eyes as it went on like this for what felt like days. In truth it had not yet been two but that was more than troublesome enough. Maesters ran in and out of the chamber past him as though he were not there, when eventually the door swung open. Ashara Dayne looked at him with fury and loathing. Her purple eyes much like his were red rimmed, puffy and full of angry tears._

_"Rhaegar" she snapped at him, "you get in there and you tell that maester that he is not cutting Ellie open now!" Normally he would have been more infuriated with the way she thought to command him but at that point in time all he heard was "cutting Ellie open". He barged through the door in such speed he almost knocked over one of the handmaidens who were carrying out cloths soaked in blood._

_"Rhaegar?" A weak whimper coming from the red stained featherbed beckoned him. She looked so desperate, so weak. Despite Elia's poor health he had never seen her so defeated, though the small smile at the corner of her lips told him she had not bowed yet. He cried into her shoulder, being careful not to put too much weight on her. He whispered promises into her ear that he was never sure he could keep; "I will not let you leave me", "you will be fine, I know it", "I will never let you go." She tried to hush him like he was a small boy crying for no good reason but it only made it worse._

_"Where is Pycelle?" He demanded, not even bothering to look for himself. He was too angry now, too impatient. How dare they let his wife get like this and not inform him?_

_"My lord?"_

_Rhaegar kissed Elia a few times on the cheek and hand before assuring her of his quick return. Grabbing Pycelle by the arm Rhaegar near dragged him out of the chamber, noticing his lady mother rising to her feet to follow._

_"What is this I hear of you wishing to cut my wife open?" Rhaegar growled through clenched teeth._

_"My prince, I fear it may be the only choice. Though the likeliness that the princess will survive is minimal surely the safety of the chid is paramount?"_

_Without even thinking Rhaegar punched the stone wall to his right with such force he was sure to have misplaced a knuckle. His left hand throbbed in pain and he knew he would suffer for it tomorrow. He was left handed; failure to use his left hand was therefore quite an inconvenience. He began pacing like he always did when he knew not what to do._

_"My son" his mother called, "childbirth is a woman's war. Elia would not want you to lose the babe for her." His lady mother always had a way of knowing what he thought. She called it a mother's intuition but times like these he could not call it anything less than God given ability._

_"I will not lose Elia mother. I cannot." He was unsure where the words had come from but he meant them. Somewhere in between the many nights spent together; the stories they had shared with each other; the truths they had told one another; and the babe they had made together, Rhaegar found himself falling in love with his wife, though he could not call his deep fondness for her a true love as of yet he could see it clearly in their futures. His growing love for Elia however did not outweigh his needs for children, hence his inner turmoil and guilt._

_"What are the chances of the babe surviving if you do not remove her?" His mother asked the maester calmly. She began gently stroking his head in the way only she ever had. 'Her' he noted to himself, mother had always said 'her' with Rhaenys._

_"The chances are very few, my Queen."_

_"So there is a chance maester?"_

_"Well yes my Queen but I would not suggest-"_

_"Of course you would not" she scoffed, "I wish for a second opinion and quickly. If there are other options maester, my son deserves to hear them."_

_"My Queen, there is no one within the Keep to offer such an opinion I assure you-"_

_"Nonsense" she interrupted again. Not often did his lady mother act with such authority but when she did it reminded him how much of a Queen she truly was. "Bring me Mordecai of Myr immediately"_

_"But your Grace-"_

_"Do not think to refuse me Maester I am your Queen! Now go!"_

_"Yes your Grace." Pycelle huffed resignedly. His face looked as sour as a child who was not going to get their way._

_After the maester had left rather reluctantly to find this man of Myr, Rhaegar was led back into the chambers by his mother's gentle hand and comforting words. Ashara sat next to Elia, dabbing her sweated brow with one hand as she held Elia's with the other. She was trying to force a reassuring smile on her face, though the quiver of her chin and the tears in her eyes made her attempts appear miserable. She swore vows much like how Rhaegar had only moments ago. Ashara was no friend to him, this much had been established in their first few meetings. She however loved his wife as though they were sisters born of the same womb. He found it odd that the two were so alike and yet so very different. Ashara was not exactly the company he had hoped his wife would keep, she was too free spirited and her virtue, questionable at best. Rhaegar wouldn't be surprised if Ashara was no maid, even then, but that was not for him to judge as Elia would often chastise. He often questioned if Elia's loyalty had been well placed in this flirtatious harpy woman, though in this moment he could see how much Ashara Dayne of Starfall truly loved his lady wife. Bent, bowed and broken before her princess' bed, Ashara Dayne began to beg;_

_"I would suffer this fate for you if the Gods would allow it, I swear you. You cannot leave me Ellie, what will we do without you? What will become of me without you?"_

_Rhaegar took up the chair next to Ashara, leaning to embrace her with his right arm. He had not expected her to embrace him back; in fact, he had not thought that she would let him touch her at all. The fact that she pulled him in to a strong, albeit shaky, hug almost shocked him._

_"I do not trust them with her Rhaegar" he heard her whisper into his ear; "the maester has fed her vial after vial and for what? She worsens." He followed the direction of her gaze to a table littered with empty glass bottles as she continued; "for true they ease her pain for an hour if that but the blood Rhaegar, there is too much blood."_

_Then she pushed him away abruptly as though he were something disgusting. If he hadn't realised before he knew now that the only reason Ashara had reciprocated his show of supportive comfort was to tell him her thoughts. Rhaegar looked to Elia, new tears welling in his eyes. She had fallen asleep after almost two exhausting days; apparently the dreamwine had finally taken effect. Elia was drenched in sweat, so much so her long thick hair was wet from root to tip. She was so pale in comparison to her healthy deep bronze, the colour of her skin a sickly yellow. Though her face would never betray her weakness, he was sure his wife was dying._

_"Mordecai!" His mother exclaimed in relief, "Thank Gods you're here. My daughter, save her."_

_Rhaegar looked to the man his mother thought would save his wife; Mordecai of Myr was clad in robes of brown wool that looked to be older than the man wearing them. The wild white hair that grew down his back looked frazzled as though he had been struck by lightning. His beard was just as hectic though some sections were braided and adorned with carved wooden beads. He looked to have seen his eightieth name day though he moved with a grace and agility of a man less than half his age. The old man began clearing away a table, pulling vials both empty and full from the sleeves of his robe. It was as though there was a deep compartment full of bottles of all shapes and sizes, some so big it had Rhaegar questioning where it could've been hidden. He began murmuring to himself as he moved between Elia's legs and began examining her. Rhaegar had to tear his eyes away for fear that he'd kill his mother's maester for looking at his wife in such a way, at places only he should see. He chastised himself for having such thoughts at a time like this. The old man was only there to help his wife live but a dragon's possessiveness often outweighs their good sense and reason._

_"Princess" Mordecai said gently. His voice more old and wise than any Rhaegar had ever heard. He moved from between her legs to the other side of the bed, squeezing Elia's vacant hand. "Elia" he said more loudly though it retained its soft tone. Elia had only been in a light haze of sleep and began stirring from hearing her name._

_"Must she be awake maester?" Rhaegar questioned, not truly wanting to wake Elia from what little peace she had found._

_"I am no maester my Prince, and yes she must be awake." Shocked, Rhaegar looked at his mother with panic and confusion. This man was not even a maester! What could he do that Pycelle could not?_

_"Mama?" Elia murmured searchingly as though her mother was in the room; "Ahhh... Mama" her pleas quickly turned into moans of pain. She began arching her back in agony, tossing from side to side as though no position was comfortable. Rhaegar felt he could do nothing to comfort her as she convulsed with tremors of pain but Elia reached for his hand frantically and without remembering his earlier transgression with the hallway wall he instinctively reached out his left hand which was crushed by a power he never imagined his sweet little wife could possess. The pain in his hand was excruciating but he didn't dare voice it when Elia's pain must be a hundred fold worse. The strange old man held Elia's left hand firmly, closely observing her as her pain subsided._

_"Forgive me child, I am not your mother but fear not sweet one, though Loreza is not here in physical form I assure you she's here spirit."_

_Elia stared up at the myrish man, brow furrowed as though in her haze of pain she was trying to recognize the man speaking to her. "Forgive me my lord, you know my mother?" His sweet Elia, even now would not forget her manners._

_"Aye princess, a lifetime ago I would like to think she were a student of sorts."_

_Elia's eyes grew wide with recognition, "the old man of Myr" she whispered as if she were in awe of this fool looking man. She grabbed his robe as though it were a lifeline in the ocean where she was drowning._

_"Save my babe old man. For the love you bare my mother, save my babe."_

_"Worry not little sun, I shall save you both." A look of concentration replaced his warm smile as he began mixing vials into a bigger bottle, swirling as the coloured liquids blended together._

_"This will assist the cervix in opening and soon the contractions will become very strong and extremely close together. Your babe and wife will live I assure you but for now my prince" he turned his gaze to Rhaegar; "I advise that you leave. Men do not often take well to seeing their wives in a bloody mess."_

_"You will not cut -"_

_"No my prince I shall cut nothing. Now please, leave us if you will." The finality in his voice made Rhaegar listen for whatever reason he didn't know. He leant against the wall opposite the door, trying to block out his urge to barge back in there. He had every right to be there, Elia was his wife, and the child she was labouring for was his. Though he knew in reality this was probably for the best he resented the fact he left Elia's side when she needed him the most so willingly._

_No more than an hour later his daughter was gently placed in his arms. She was perfect he had thought to himself, she looked just like Elia in almost every way. Though her nose was more Targaryen and her skin fairer than her mother's she was almost Elia's mirror image. He had dreamt about three children for as long as he could remember, two girls who looked nothing like him and a boy who was him reborn. He had thought to name his first born daughter Visenya but the song of her melodious little murmurs and gurgles sung of love, sung of Rhaenys. Elia woke after a few weeks demanding to see her daughter, when he told her he had named their daughter Rhaenys a sad smiled spread across her face. Rhaegar couldn't help but think Elia was not pleased with the name and once news came that the Crowned Princess Loreza Nymeros Martell of Sunspear had died while Elia was in the birthing bed Rhaegar knew what name his wife would have preferred. Elia was inconsolable after he mother's death, choosing to stay abed with only their babe for comfort. Rhaegar however could not bring himself to regret his decision; Rhaenys was the loved Queen, the one who won the heart of the Conqueror. Rhaenys was their daughter's name for Rhaegar loved her in a way he was sure he never could a son. His mother had said once that men yearn for sons to be their heirs but it was daughters they truly loved._

He knew that for true now. As Jon grew and his personality began to surface Rhaegar's love for his son deepened. Jon was the image of his mother, with a temperament much like his own. Though Lyanna insisted he was just like her brother Eddard, Rhaegar recognized the melancholy that echoed tragedy in Jon's eyes. Jon was his son in more than just blood; Rhaegar however didn't feel the connection he had with Rhaenys. His daughter had always listened to his stories, eyes wide and glazed with wonder even when she was just a mere babe. She would sing along with him as he played his harp, her voice sweet like his lady mother's even having only seen three name days. Rhaenys warmed his heart in a way nothing else could.

Gazing at the moon in these ruins he cried silently. His daughter was gone, along with his first born son, wife, mother and brother. The Gods thought him too ambitious, too eager to fulfil duties not meant for him. So the Gods were cruel and stripped him of his hopes and dreams as punishment. The last few years had been nothing but painful, war had destroyed any illusions of peace and happiness he once had. Dorne so far was successful in keeping him at bay. Aegon the Conqueror had deemed Dorne impossible to conquer by force with the aid of three fire breathing dragons; he doubted he could make them cower in fear at the sight of his exhausted armies. He had decided after a year to leave them to their own devices thinking sooner or later Doran would see sense in Dorne's alliance with the Iron Throne. Sure Dorne could survive without aid from the rest of Westeros but the people flourished more with trade to the north. Closing the gates meant closing trade and though Doran was quite happy with that in Sunspear how long would his lords on the borders be content?

He needed to have Dorne swear fealty to him. Seeing the power hungry glares of his own lords he knew failure to do so could possibly lead to yet another rebellion. If they thought Rhaegar too weak he would have men all across Westeros calling themselves 'King' and that was a possibility he never wanted to come to fruition. If that was not enough disorder his lords secretly plotted amongst each other to ensure their daughter would be the next Queen. His Lord Hand and Master of Coin in particular had not been pleased when they heard of Rhaegar's proposal to Doran. Rhaegar knew now that Tywin Lannister had a grand-daughter of Jon's age he expected the next Queen to be a Lannister, especially after the generous donation Tywin had made when the kingdom desperately needed repairs. Mace Tyrell wasn't exactly subtle about his desire to see his daughter as Queen either, and he is quick to always remind Rhaegar that they had been his most loyal of banner men for both of the recent rebellions. Rhaegar's demand that they wait for Dorne to respond was not a welcome suggestion to either lord, neither wanting to give up what little hold they could have on the throne. He could not hold them off for much longer without things erupting into chaos but he prayed he had a few years at least.

"Rhaegar. It's getting late" he peered down to where the voice was coming from. Arthur sat on the grass, his legs splayed out in front of him as he leant back on his arm. "We should head back to camp my friend."

Thank the Gods something had managed to heal somewhat. Arthur had not been himself after he returned from Dorne with Lyanna, when he returned from Dorne after speaking with Doran he was almost completely lost to Rhaegar. Grief and shame replacing his usual carefree happiness and honour. He had come to Rhaegar's solar not a week later in a drunken stupor;

_"I have broken my vows" he slurred, stopping to take another swig from a wineskin. "Behead me."_

_"What the hells are you talking about Arthur?"_

_"My vows of chastity, I broke them" he paused to finish the wineskin and discard it with an annoyed grunt before repeating; "behead me." Rhaegar didn't know what had been more shocking; Arthur's confession or his belief that Rhaegar would ever dream of beheading his closest friend._

_"Lewyn had a paramour and he was not beheaded."_

_"No" he staggered around, seeming to be momentarily disorientated; "Prince Lewyn was cut down in battle for a cause he had no belief in and a King he had grown to hate. You seek to damn me to the same fate I see."_

_"You hate me?" Rhaegar questioned, confused as to how one of his best friends had come to resent him so._

_"If I hated you I would have cut you down. It is not any fault of yours that I am a wretched man of no morality."_

_"Arthur stop this -"_

_"I slept with Lord Oakheart's oldest daughter. I had thought she was a niece or cousin the first time, when I had left her I had been cruel so I returned to apologize resulting in a second and then a third incident. I learnt she is the oldest daughter who was promised to some flower lord. I have shamed and dishonoured her. I must be punished."_

_"Arthur, this can be forgotten -"_

_"No it cannot."_

_"I will speak with Lord Oakheart and -"_

_"When I was inside her I thought of Elia."_

_Rhaegar was shocked into silence for a few moments, not knowing whether he heard correctly. But upon seeing the challenging expression on Arthur's face he hummed with aggressive warning; "What did you say?"_

_"When I was inside her and she was writhing in pleasure beneath me. I. Thought. Of. Elia."_

_Rhaegar leapt across the table fists clenched, punching Arthur square in the nose. Arthur quickly recovered and tackled Rhaegar to the ground with a shrill battle cry. They wrestled and punched each other into a bloodied heap on the floor._

_"You son of a bitch! How dare you dishonour my wife with your filthy base needs?!"_

_"You to talk you fucking hypocrite!" Arthur having gained the advantaged straddled Rhaegar and began raining blow after blow down on him. "Besides. She's. No. Longer. Your. Wife." Each word punctuated with a hit to the torso._

_They brawled like peasant boys in the street till they were both panting for breath on the ground, void of any energy. "She loved me too you know" Arthur declared in an attempt to rise Rhaegar's ire further but the pain in his voice, the way you could almost hear the tears falling as he spoke only broke Rhaegar's resolve. Arthur had loved Elia all this time and if what he were saying was true she loved him too._

_"Are you telling me Elia forsook her vows?"_

_Arthur rumbled with a tragically bitter laughter; "Do you not know what kind of woman you wed Rhaegar? Unlike you, her word was not wind."_

_"And yet you say she loved you?" Rhaegar couldn't help but scoff, so all this was for a one sided, unrequited love?_

_"Before either of us ever spared you a thought, before she was married to you and I to this white cloak, we had loved each other in Dorne."_

_"Elia came to our bed a maid; I know that for a fact"_

_"Aye" Arthur laughed again; "but there are other things that can be done where one's maidenhead is left in tact."_

_Rhaegar tried to withdraw himself from the image of Elia taking Arthur in her mouth, as she had Rhaegar, but one cannot escape visions in their own mind. Elia had been more knowledgeable in such acts than he thought a maid would be. He had brushed the thought aside however once he felt himself tear through the maidenhead that bled on to their sheets._

_"You should count yourself lucky then Arthur, that my wife was most loyal and dutiful to her lord husband." Rhaegar hoisted himself to his feet and stretched out his hand to Arthur, who still lay on his back searching the ceiling for answers to the questions that internally plagued him._

_"You will forgive me?"_

_Rhaegar huffed in resignation; "Elia did not dishonour her vow to me, as you said she never would." Arthur started getting to his feet ignoring Rhaegar's offer to aid him. He struggled in his heavy armour for a few moments; Rhaegar had no idea how Arthur had managed to fight so well in hand to hand combat knowing how stifling armour could be._

_"Given the opportunity, I would have had her dishonour them repetitively." Rhaegar fought the urge to punch the fool in the face again as he knew that was what he wanted._

_"And as you said, she gave you no such opportunity. I understand -"_

_"No Rhaegar! You have don't understand!" Arthur looked on the verge of hysteria; "when I took these damn vows it was because I could never be worthy of her. She would marry some high lord, leave Dorne and never think of me again. I had hoped that gaining glory in the Kingsguard would help imbed me into her memory. So when she thought of me she thought of how brave I was and how marrying me could've been some kind of an honour. I was happy to serve your father under such deluded fantasies until the day they announced she would wed you." He looked crestfallen with despair and regret; "Though I had reasons not to I accepted it in the end. You were heir to the throne after all, who better for her than you."_

_He chuckled to himself as though everything was dark joke that sardonic Gods would laugh upon; "Then you went mad, albeit it was only briefly, it was mad none the less. After you told me about Lyanna playing knight at Harrenhal I thought perhaps you had crowned her honourably and Elia had told Ashara she felt the same. Then the letters kept coming and you spoke of the wolf girl more frequently. After your trueborn son was born you became a man possessed Rhaegar. Elia thought you were in love with the wolf girl and for awhile I had too, but now-" he broke off as though he were unsure what more to say._

_"I would have handled the torment of hearing you with Elia every night, as I had once, before you met your northern love" Arthur spat the word sarcastically; "if only you had been good enough for her."_

_"You know I was good to her Arthur, I would never have annulled our marriage had Elia lived -_

_"But she did not Rhaegar! You were not here to protect her. You had run off in the night with another woman!" Arthur fell back on his arse having lost his footing in his still inebriated state. "I had not protected her; I had run away with you to take another woman to the safety of Dorne, to the safety of our home." Rhaegar should be infuriated, Arthur had done more than enough to earn his head on a spike but Rhaegar could only feel empathy for a man he had once called his best friend._

_"Why did you tell me all this Arthur?"_

_"Because I cannot live when they do not. Elia, Ashara, Lewyn, they're all gone. I have lost the people I loved, my home and the respect that my dornish brothers once had for me. I have no honour left Rhaegar and now, knowing what you know, could you ever learn to trust me again?"_

_"Yes" Rhaegar replied with no hesitation, Arthur looked as though he was about to say something but Rhaegar quickly continued on; "you are the most honest man I know Arthur. Look how lies and dishonour have eaten away at you. You were once my closest friend, I pray in time you will be again."_

Their friendship had slowly began to rebuild with Arthur returning to his usual self again. Things had started to look positive, mayhaps not politically but personally.

"I'll sleep here tonight Arthur, the sky is clear enough. You go rest, we leave on the morrow."

"Suit yourself." Rhaegar watched as Arthur made his way back to the tents at the edge of a clearing before returning to his thoughts. 

He had not wanted to rush his trip away from the pressures of King's Landing but Lyanna did not cope well in the Keep alone. He had given himself enough time to mourn alone before he would return to her and his duties. Lyanna had been pressuring him to send her North again, which of course he refused. There were too many people willing to see him widowed again, too many people who did not think kindly of his Queen. Things between them had become more strained because of it, though in truth he knew that Lyanna started pulling away from him once she learnt the truth of her brother's and father's deaths.

_She had joined him in Highgarden while Rhaegar held war councils with lords of the Reach, Westerlands and Stormlands. He had been deep into a meeting when Lyanna burst through the doors;_

_"Rhaegar I need to speak to you." Though she looked like she was about to burst in to a rampage he couldn’t dismiss his men when they had only just gotten into what strategies they would take with Dorne._

_"Can it not wait my love?"_

_“No it cannot fucking wait Rhaegar! I need to speak to you now!" He was taken aback by the way she confronted him. Of course he remembered how she had launched a verbal onslaught on him when the Lord Commander had brought news of her family's deaths; though thank the Gods he had refrained from telling her the whole, cruel truth. She however had fallen into a sobbing wreck on the floor, head in her hands as she cried fours hours in solitude. She had only returned to him just before he left for war, apologies falling from her lips as he kissed her tears away. This time seemed different, this time her anger seemed to outweigh her pain._

_He dismissed his men with what little grace he could muster. As they shuffled out the door he could already hear them snickering to each other, plotting against the King who cannot even control his wife._

_"How did my father die Rhaegar?" Any sense of anguish or righteousness he had been feeling instantly melted a way. Somehow she knew, he could tell by the feral growl in her voice. It had been foolish to assume he could keep it from her forever but he had hoped to shield her for as long as he could._

_"Lya if you would just take a seat my -"_

_"Just answer the fucking question Rhaegar!" She shrieked, her face reddening from the effort of screaming so loudly._

_"Fire love, he died by fire."_

_She screamed her frustrations to the ceiling as she fell to her knees in internal agony. He went to hold her, give her the love he was so sure she needed from him, but she only clawed viciously at his arm drawing blood._

_"And my brother? How did Brandon die?" He could tell she knew the answer but she needed to hear him say it, to justify the sense of betrayal she was surely feeling._

_"Strangulation love. Forgive me -"_

_"Fuck you" she snapped more enraged than he had ever seen anyone; "for this I will never forgive you! You told me they both died in trial by combat, little did I know you were mocking me as your lord father mocked mine! Fuck you Rhaegar!" She dropped her head defeatedly as though she had lost all will to carry on. "Fuck you."_

_He tried to comfort her for hours, though every time he reached for her he was clawed at and made to retreat. Eventually she cried herself to sleep there, by then the sun had set and the moon looked to be making way for the new light of day. He carried her to their chambers and found that the door was locked for many days to come._

_Months following their fight she had tried to run away with Jon. None of her attempts ever made it very far past the stables but it pained him more than enough just knowing she had even wanted to run from him. His heart broke daily seeing the storm in her eyes reserved only for him, as much as he tried to push the pain away her rejection was worse than almost anything else he had experienced. He loved her so much it was unbearable, if he could will his love for her away Gods be good he would. Her coldness caused him more heart ache than he cared to admit and though her hatred over time diminished, it was never truly gone._

Their relationship now was fragile at best. Her silent rage echoed loudly in his ears, her coldness making conversation more impossible to establish than he had ever dreamt. Any kind of sexual activity was quick and angry, her pleas for pleasure replaced with cruel words and ruthless questioning; "Do you forget how your family burned when you fuck me Rhaegar?", "You never thought of them when your cock was buried inside me did you?", "You get what you want and fuck everything else". To his complete disgust he would only thrust into her harder as though his body was answering yes when his mouth could not. You would think from the things she said that she was not the one who came to him, seeking this twisted kind of pleasurable punishment. Rhaegar had always waited for Lyanna; though he tried endlessly to persuade her with sweet words to see his reason he would never try to force her. Lyanna came to him at her own will and though he hated himself for not being able to deny her, he hated her more for being this way. She was meant to love him; she had told him enough times that she did, but how could she truly love him when she was always so quick to torment him so?

He found himself wondering not for the first time what life would have been like had his father not set the world on fire. If his family had've lived he was sure he would've had peace. Elia would have accepted Lyanna and Jon with open arms; she had told him as much the last time he had spoken to her;

_The dreams had taken over his reality. Night after night he saw his Rhaenys, and though she was a woman grown he knew it was her none the less. She sat atop a giant black dragon, its eyes and flames the same burning green as wildfire. A boy rode a sliver dragon with blue eyes along side her, it's scales more sword like than reptilian. He was Rhaegar's replica albeit he was a little broader, more a warrior like, he was surely Rhaegar and Elia's Aegon. And next to them, more clear than she had ever been before, a girl with striking blue grey eyes, so much like Lyanna's. Together the three made their way to the Wall, flying across desserts and seas. Rhaegar's dreams quickly became darker, with visions of Others rising from the grave and the Wall crumbling to naught but dust. He knew whatever he was feeling for Lyanna was not just some base animalistic thing, he could not call it love but it was a need none the less._

_Elia was still in her sick bed after birthing Aegon nearly four moons ago, though she was conscious more often now. The maester had told Rhaegar that Elia would probably never conceive again, and if she ever did it would almost definitely result in death. He had slowly begun to lose his mind then, and the dreams started becoming more vivid, more realistic. He had already began writing to Lyanna months ago using a rather convenient apology for any inconveniences caused by his actions at Harrenhal as means to start conversation. Rhaegar was sure Lyanna was the mother to his third child, to his Visenya. They had the same look, same eyes and same wolf like ferocity. After months of long letters he found himself becoming fonder of Lyanna, and she eventually voiced her reluctance to marry his cousin Robert and her ever growing fondness for Rhaegar. He hadn't known what to do since, he found himself being distant from his family, even his sweet Rhaenys. Rhaegar had thought to over throw his barely sane Lord sire but that would not be soon enough, he had to act now but first he had to speak to his lady wife;_

_"Ellie?" He finally said after staring out the window for what must have been hours. She looked at him and smiled in a way that told him he had her attention._

_"The dragon must have three heads. And I -"_

_"You're going to make your third head with Lady Stark." She stated bluntly, though her tone was not unkind there was a slight spark of hurt in her eyes._

_"Wha- Whe- How did you know?"_

_"You talk in your sleep." He flushed in embarrassment, hoping he had not cried out Lyanna's name when he had dreamt of her beneath him. Elia for her part only continued looking at him reassuringly though her eyebrow was now arched in curiosity. "Do you love her Rhaegar?"_

_"What? No! I barely know her." His answer came out rushed and loud, sounding more like denial than anything else._

_"And yet you want to put a babe in her?"_

_"It is not so simple Ellie-"_

_"No Rhaegar, it obviously is not. Tell me, does she know of your intentions or do you plan to just charm her into the darkness with you?"_

_"Well - I -"_

_"So she is just a victim of your ambitions I see."_

_"Elia you will not speak to me in such a way!"_

_"If you do not like to hear the truth Rhaegar, you should not have come to speak to me. What will happen to Lady Stark once you have dishonoured her? You will take her for a wife?" In truth Rhaegar had not yet thought that far ahead, he had barely figured out a plan - albeit a very flawed one, to take her as such. Though he did not know whether or not Lyanna would comply, he doubted she would truly be against it. Reading between the lines of her letters she was almost asking him to take her._

_"If that is what she wishes then yes." Elia furrowed her brow and looked to be murmuring something to herself as her fingers twirled the ends of her hair, so obliviously enticing. She always did this when she was deep in thought, as though she was contemplating the best course of action with multiple people dwelling inside her. Rhaegar moved to sit next to her on the bed so he too could play with her hair, she was beautiful when she was like this, he had always thought so._

_"If you were ever asking for my consent, I give it. I would offer Lyanna nothing but understanding and perhaps in time friendship, if she were to come to accept. The child I would raise evenly along side mine own as the children need not know they are not of full blood till they are of a more understanding age. Where is it you plan to meet her?"_

_"I hadn't exactly planned to meet her -"_

_"You plan to take her? Against her will?" Elia's calm demeanour slipped only momentarily to reveal panic and worry._

_"I will not hurt her -"_

_"No you will simply traumatize the poor girl and scandalize the people. They will call it kidnap Rhaegar, abduction!"_

_"Calm yourself love please, I am not entirely sure that she is willing but I know that she would not fight me."_

_"She probably thinks herself in love with you." Though the words could have been bitter the sly smile at the corner of her lips told Rhaegar Elia's usually cheeky self had returned at last, and mayhaps he had won her complete support on the matter._

_"Why? Are you jealous love?" They started chuckling together until it erupted into bouts of laughter. Elia was never jealous; not when Cersei Lannister would all but thrust herself upon him, not when every maid in the land would swoon as he sung ballads of love in great feasts, not when he crowned another woman Queen of Love and Beauty over her. The thought of her being an envious wretched woman was beyond laughable._

_"Well, it is awfully romantic" she near whispered, though her eyes were bright it quickly began to fade as another thought crossed her mind, "What of your father Rhaegar?"_

_"I cannot over throw my father without holding a council with the lords paramount -"_

_"Nor can you leave us here with him. He will likely kill your mother one of these days; you cannot stand by and allow this any longer."_

_"I know Ellie, I know. It is more difficult than it seems though -"_

_"How is it difficult Rhaegar? Have Lord Varys send word to the lords, hold your meeting as soon as possible and ask Lord Stark if you may take his daughter for a second wife, perhaps even an only"_

_"Only? Ellie what madness do you speak of now?"_

_"If you find yourself falling in love with the girl Rhaegar, will you not send me away? Make her your Queen -"_

_"No!" He interrupted abruptly "You are my wife Elia, nothing changes that. If Lyanna wishes to become my second wife I will not deny her but you are my first. You will be the High Queen, mother to the heir of the Iron throne." He had thought that this was what she wanted to hear, that her position as Queen was secure and their relationship while different would be able to flourish again in time. Elia however looked disappointed and her eyes so sad it hurt him._

_"Promise me our children's safety Rhaegar, I care not what you do, in fact it is probably for the best that you tell me no more. Just promise me you will not abandon our children Rhaegar, promise me their safety is paramount and I will do all I can to be the dutiful and loyal wife I vowed that I would be."_

_He made vows and promises then (that he would never end up keeping) as he kissed her cheeks alternatively, over and over again, the only sign of utmost appreciation he could show her with her health being so fragile. They slept together that night, his arm draped over her hip comfortably and legs intertwined with each other, a position they had come to use more often than not throughout the many moons of their marriage. It would be the last time he held her like that, listening to her light snores, smelling that musky mix of vanilla, patchouli and amber that seemed to seep from her skin, tangling her thick, soft hair in his fingers, absentmindedly clenching bunches of it in his fists._

_He left with Arthur and Oswell Whent the following night. Elia had not been pleased that he had not chosen a more responsible course of action but he had had every intention of coming back, he had never thought there was any real danger. Rhaegar cursed himself now for not thinking more rational, for not being more patient, for not listening. Mayhaps if he had've he could've prevented the deaths of his family, Lyanna's family, Gods a man died in almost every family in the Kingdom that could have been prevented._

Looking to the moon again he thought one last time of his Rhaenys, he took a single Dragon's Breath from his pocket and plucked it's dark red petals one by one, casting them to the wind with a prayer to the Gods that his sweet daughter found peace, that she knows she is loved, that she knows she is missed and that her father will be forever truly sorry.

"Forgive me" he pleaded to the moon.


	14. Lyanna IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a lot of flashbacks in this as well. This chapter was originally a beast so I cut it down as much as I could. Sorry if it's not edited the best just trying to make up lost ground. Warning there is some offensive language, please review and leave suggestions etc. I appreciate all feedback x

Lyanna Targaryen 285 AL - Highgarden

Today was the last day of winter and Jon's third name day. Men from almost all the houses north of Dorne had come to show their prowess in jousting, archery or swordplay for the first time since Harrenhal. Though Lyanna loathed summer and spring in the Reach for all its toxic scents and stifling heat, the winter was not so bad. It didn't snow which to her meant it was not truly winter but some of the flowers had wilted and with them their fumigating aromas. How anyone thought the smell was anything other than sickening was beyond her. Lyanna had once thought she loved flowers and well kept gardens as vast as battlefields but now she thought perhaps she only loved the flowers of the north. The blue winter roses and the white daphnes of the trees had subtle scents that were fresh and crisp like frost, not pungent and overwhelming like the roses in Highgarden.

She yearned for the North, for her home and family. Looking around the stands today there were no direwolves, _there must always be a Stark in Winterfell_ she knew, father had said so often enough. Ben had taken the black shortly after her official wedding and Ned did not wish to leave his wife and son while Robb was so young and winter was coming. She understood the sense in it but still, she felt like a lone she wolf without a pack, though at least she had her sweet, solemn winter pup. 

Her Jon had grown handsomely, he was not as chubby as he used to be as a small babe and his features had slowly become more his own, though he managed to retain his Stark colourings much to his mother's relief. Lyanna was sure he was more advanced than other babes his age, though there were usually none to compare him to and Lyanna had next to no experience with any child other than her own, she could swear Jon understood more than he was able to express and began crawling or walking before the youngest Tyrell, Loras, who was more than a few moons older than Jon. She spent every day and night with her pup now; having given up on dreams of freedom the last time Barristan Selmy had stopped her from leaving the Keep;

_She had planned to take a horse and head north out the Dragon Gate for Winterfell but Barristan was waiting for her before she'd even made it to the stables. The second time he stopped her in the midst of the night just as she had mounted her horse, and this time he was waiting for her just outside the Dragon Gate, as though he were mocking her like she were some predictable fool to jest at._

_"Your Grace, as you know I cannot let you leave -"_

_"Fuck that! Come on Barristan" she began to plea; "is it honourable for a man to hold a woman prisoner against her will?"_

_"When that man is my King -"_

_"Barristan please? If it were anyone else would you not help me? All I want is to go home for awhile, please?"_

_"Forgive me my Queen but it is not anyone else." With that he pulled her from her horse, being careful not to hurt Jon who had been fastened securely to Lyanna's chest in a cocoon of silks and wool._

_He had ridden back to the Red Keep with her and guided her back to her gilded prison of brick, fabrics and jewels for a chamber. Before he could lock them in for what must be the twentieth night in a row Lyanna grabbed Barristan's arm;_

_"If you will damn me to stay here at least stay with me." The look of shock and confusion that spread across his face almost made her laugh, if the situation had not been so grim she surely would've. She hadn't known why she asked him to stay, like everything else she does it was more of an impulse than anything. It was just with Rhaegar always away and her family far in the north Lyanna had little to no company._

_"If it please you my Queen." He said gently after a few moments of seemingly contemplating the situation._

_They sat in her chambers for hours, talking about their backgrounds and homes. Lyanna came to think Barristan was by far the most dutiful man she had ever met. Every time he spoke of his duty it was with passion and reverence, which was so unlike almost everyone else she had ever known who spoke of duty solely as a burden, herself included. After things had slowly started to become comfortable between the two Barristan took the opportunity to ask;_

_"Why do you wish to leave my Queen?" His sad blue eyes boring into hers expectantly. She thought of Rhaegar, of the truths he had kept from her, of the evils done to her family, of the love she still unwilling had for him._

_"My father and brother were killed because of us Barristan. How can I stay here, where they suffered? How could I ever forgive him for this if I can never forgive myself?" She whimpered the last question as she had already began to cry. Visions of her father screaming in agony as he cooked alive in his armour, her brother begging for his life as the rope slowly tightened around his neck, choking the life out of him. How could she ever forgive that they died that way? How could she ever forgive herself for letting them die that way?_

_"I was here my Queen when they were killed -"_

_"And you did nothing" she growled angrily. How dare he admit he was craven at a time like that!? Now, of all times!?_

_"I could not. It was my King's decree -"_

_"And you just did it? Even though you knew it were wrong? You just stood there -"_

_"And **you** just ran away with a married man, which unfortunately led to you're brother charging in here to his death. **You** just had the prince's child and hid away while war raged around you. **You** will not put empty blame on another when you have so much to be ashamed of and I will not simply stand by and let my Queen be so petty when I know the seed she was sown from was not." No one had ever spoken to Lyanna that way, everyone had always tried to please her with words; her father, her brothers, Robert, Rhaegar but not Barristan. He had said almost every cruel word she had said to herself a thousand times; and though it was more painful to hear the words said aloud by another, it felt good to hear the truth again._

_"How would you know what seed I was sown from Barristan?"_

_He sighed and shook his head, the blue in his eyes seeming deeper and sadder than they ever had before; "I will admit I did not have the honour of knowing your lord sire for long my Queen. Though I am told a man in his dying moments shows what he is truly made of, if that is true your father was made of steel and ice."_

_The tears were falling from her eyes more freely now; "Tell me the truth of it Barristan in detail, how did my father and brother die?"_

_"Your Grace are you sure -"_

_"Please Barristan, I would like the truth."_

_"The King had been gone for almost six moons by the time Lord Brandon came storming in to the Red Keep. He was so livid and wild but above everything he was sure."_

_"Sure? Sure of what?" She near demanded, becoming impatient with how long it was taking Barristan to choose the words to his story._

_"Well that King Rhaegar was here, that you were being held his prisoner. Nothing could calm him, he demanded that the King come out and die which of course was not reacted to well." Barristan looked as though he would not continue but after a few moments he started again, a hint of guilt laced in his voice; "King Aerys had us beat him and throw him in the black cells, which in honesty Your Grace was fair dues. Your lord brother had outright declared treason when he threatened the crown prince after all. We had thought your Lord father would come and both would be punished accordingly but when King Aerys made it known that he planned to execute your brother, his followers and all of their lord fathers for treason, Princess Elia made a stand against him."_

_"She did?" Thank the Gods, someone had stood up for them, someone had done what was right. And of all the people it could have been it was the princess Lyanna had slighted._

_"Aye Your Grace" a fond smile spread across his face; "the Princess was very brave, very honourable; no one had ever thought someone so gentle and mild would dare speak out in such a way." His expression slowly darkened as the silence dragged on. "She suffered for her bravery though, King Aerys had her punished severely."_

_"Punished?" She gasped, her relief subsiding for the familiar feel of guilt; "how?"_

_"The Princess was put in the Black Cells with Lord Brandon, starved and left unbathed for weeks until she was made to take a walk of penance. She was whipped ten times by the King's Justice for her unwillingness to bow still and taken back to the cells she had come from." Tears seemed to form in his eyes though you could never truly tell; his eyes seemed to swim with sorrow constantly. "Lewyn, poor Lewyn. No man should have to see their beloved kin like that, despite any vow."_

_"Lewyn?"_

_"Ser Lewyn Nymeros Martell, once a Prince of Dorne was a knight of the Kingsguard and uncle to the late Princess Elia. He had taken her to the cells the first time looking defiant and angry, when he retrieved her he looked to be in pain, and when he took her back after the lashings he looked broken." Barristan shook his head as though he were banishing haunting memories from his mind; "We thought the Princess would die in her cell for sure, she had never been a physically strong woman but when Lewyn, Jaime and I were sent to retrieve both the Princess and Lord Brandon she seemed in far better health than we had expected."_

_She said nothing for a while, taking a moment to silently pray for Elia Martell; "And my brother?" she eventually whispered. Not truly knowing if she could handle any such stories of Brandon._

_"He had almost fully healed Your Grace, though he was weak from starvation he had enough strength to carry himself with as much dignity as he could muster."_

_"And my father?" she whimpered, the familiar sting of fresh tears burning in her eyes._

_"You're Lord Father demanded a trial by combat, he looked to have made the decision beforehand as he donned his battle armour that day. King Aerys accepted the challenge and in his madness chose wildfire as his champion. Lord Brandon fought viciously against the noose that restrained him, reaching for the sword just out of his reach to save your father. Your brother uttered not one word of mercy for himself but he begged for the life of Lord Rickard."_

_Lyanna curled into herself defensively as the sorrow she had caused himself suddenly seemed to engulf her. Of course her Brandon had been brave, of course he had not cried out for himself, that was Brandon. Her father had suffered though, truly suffered, how did he handle his torture? She needed to know._

_"Your Lord Father was braver still my Queen."_

_"How so Barristan?" she sniffled through her barely audible sobs._

_"Your father did not cry out, sadly my Queen your Lord Rickard was not the first man I saw burn alive but he was the only who did not cry out."_

_"Truly?" said like a whisper of awe_

_"Truly, he spoke out only once to your brother who screamed for your sire's life."_

_"What did he say Barristan?"_

_"Silence" his sapphire eyes looking to be tearing as he spoke the word with a pain filled reverence; "Your Grace."_

_Lyanna broke then, knowing in just that one word all the hurt and frustration her father was feeling. She imagined how it echoed through the throne room and resonated throughout the Keep, the excruciating agony vibrating in its depths. Lyanna could envision the scene more clearly than she ever had, and it shattered her heart in to what felt like a million pieces. Barristan swiftly moved to comfort her, nothing more than was proper of course but the look on his face showed that he truly meant to comfort her through this spout of pain. He stayed till the sun rose, reassuring her that none of that was her fault, that she and Rhaegar were not to know that the Mad King would lust for fire and blood the way he did. That Rhaegar only meant to shield her from the pain of knowing the truth rather than the truth itself. And though she found herself contemplating forgiveness she had not yet truly given it._

"Your Grace.. Your Grace?" Lyanna was snapped out of her daydreams by the insistent calls of Lady Alerie Tyrell, who's piercing blue eyes were looking at her as if she were expecting an answer to a question Lyanna never heard.

"Yes Lady Tyrell?"

Hiding her obvious annoyance quickly she feigned a smile and notioned to the tourney at hand; "the joust, Your Grace. Who do you favour to win?"

Lyanna turned her attention then to the current joust, Barristan the Bold versus Arthur Dayne, once the Champion of Dorne. A part of her had wished to say Barristan for the fondness that had grown between them but that part of her would be a liar. Arthur Dayne, for all that people said about him was still one of the most formidable forces Lyanna had ever known, and she had known many. Though she knew for a fact in a joust Rhaegar had beaten Arthur twice, she doubted he could so now with his left arm still being damaged from his duel with Robert on the Trident. In hand to hand combat and melee she highly doubted Rhaegar could've ever won against the sword of the morning. Arthur would have slayed Robert, mighty hammer or not, and without the aid of the irritable Jon Connington at that. He reminded her a lot of her brother in some ways, though in most he was basically the polar opposite. Brandon like Arthur had had a natural ability for combat in every form; Lyanna wondered if Brandon were here to compete in this tourney, would she indeed be watching a joust between two different competitors? In truth, probably not, Brandon was not the best of jousters even in the North but in melee her brother might have gotten the better of Arthur, though no one would know for sure now.

"Ser Arthur Dayne, Lady Tyrell." She nonchalantly replied. Her answer was met with both frowns from the older women and giggles from the younger maids of Cersei Tyrell's retinue. It had become common knowledge that Arthur had forsaken his vows by bedding Lord Oakheart's daughter, Alannys. Gossip travelled around the Reach faster than the wind, and Arthur's affiliation to Dorne only added to the scandal. Rhaegar had appeased the Oakhearts by personally knighting two of their sons and promising a position in his Kingsguard for the youngest boy Arys, once he came of age and a position was made available. Rhaegar had also mustered together quite a generous sum of money to offer as a dowry for any man who wed the girl, which brought suitors from the Stormlands to the Rock. Alannys however rejected all of them and by the way she kept batting her eyelashes at Arthur it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

As the joust went on longer than most, Barristan seemed to be feeling the effects of their enduring joust while Arthur continued on almost effortlessly. It ended how she had imagined, with Arthur eventually unhorsing Barristan in what felt like the hundredth tilt, smashing his lance into splinters against Barristan's helm. Though defeated Barristan could be proud in the fact he had unhorsed the psychotic mountain from House Clegane. Gregor had been so sour about his defeat he tried to take Barristan on in a duel of swords but Rhaegar intervened bringing Barristan to an immediate stop. Lyanna noted that the other man would not have halted had the Lord Hand not repeated Rhaegar's command to stay his arm. Arthur had an easier line-up than Barristan, his only real foe being the heir of the Rock; Jaime Lannister, who was unhorsed but had only one less point than Arthur while Barristan was beaten by three in the final round.

Arthur was being presented with a wreath of golden roses, the crowd silently awaiting his choice of Queen of Love and Beauty. Lady Alannys who sat next to Cersei, looked to be bouncing eagerly on the edge of her seat as Arthur looked searchingly around the grounds. After a few moments he looked crestfallen, as though no one in the crowd was worthy of his crown. He took two single roses from the wreath and tucked them into the breastplate of his armour before riding towards the dais. To the disbelief of everyone bar Rhaegar who seemed to not care for the events at all as he looked off melancholically into space, Arthur threw the wreath carelressly into Lyanna's lap;

"Your Queen of Love and Beauty, Queen Lyanna Targaryen." The smirk on his face made his declaration less bitter than the words almost sounded. Though his smile fell from his face the moment he made eye contact with Lady Alannys, who's big doe eyes seemed to water with disappointment.

The night went on and as the festivities progressed men and women alike had begun to dance with drunk enthusiasm, Lyanna made her way over to where Arthur sat devouring yet another wineskin in what seemed to be one long gulp. He had changed from his armour into a lavender shade tunic embroidered with a silver seven pointed star and black leather breeches. His chosen shades of fabric looked remarkable when contrasted with his own silver and purple colourings. Arthur Dayne was definitely one of the more handsome men of Westeros, though he did not have the same youthful charm as Rhaegar or the rough roguish look that Brandon had proven was popular with women, Arthur Dayne had a unique allure of his own. He was broad and tall, with short platinum silver hair and deep bluish purple eyes. Maids all across the land swoon upon his intense gaze despite themselves, they faint at his demonstrations of power and shamelessly try to tempt him to their beds with their pious giggles and fluttering lashes. However after forgetting himself briefly, Arthur seemed to have regained his resolve, making any attempts to bed the almost born again knight futile. He motioned for a serving maid to pour yet another drink into the large goblet that had been cast aside earlier for the wineskins. Lyanna rolled her eyes at him, she hated it when he looked so pitiful, the man she knew to be more able than any looked no more than a broken pet at times, who's master had beaten him once too many.

"Do cheer up Arthur, you did win after all." She hoped she sounded more cheerful than she felt, in truth she was tired and sore but she would not leave until Rhaegar did. Lyanna had told him she would save him the shame of retiring by himself this once but judging by the seemingly happy smile on his face he seemed more than willing to participate in the celebrations with Cersei _supposed-to-be_ Tyrell and her entourage as they coyishly put themselves on display before him. She had thought to rip off the bitch's head off with her bare hands at first, every fibre of her being hated Cersei Lannister since the day she had told Lyanna of her father and brother's deaths;

_She had been discussing a trip to the North with Arthur, or rather the lack of a trip to the North, as they made their way through the gardens and fountains to a spot she had come to find more tolerable. It was a field of well trimmed grass edged with tall hedge trees that provided almost no shade in the midday sun but the slight cool breeze that often drifted through the enclosure was comforting enough in the unbearable summer heat._

_"Arthur?" A voice called from the far corner of the field, and as realisation seemed to creep into his eyes as a blush rose to his cheeks. "What are you doing here?" The curvaceous woman had obviously not seen Lyanna walking behind him, hidden by Arthur's large form. She reached for his hand before realising Lyanna was there; "Oh, Your Grace, I did not see you there."_

_"Forgive me but -"_

_"I am Lady Alannys Oakheart, Your Grace. The oldest daughter of Lord and Lady Oakheart of Old Oak." She curtseyed more gracefully than Lyanna could ever wish to and smiled prettily with an ever so slight blush at Arthur, who seemed suddenly fascinated with the grass._

_"Ah yes, you're one of Lady Cersei's ladies. I saw you the other night at the feast."_

_"Yes, Your Grace. In fact if you are not too busy I'm sure Lady Cersei would be more than delighted to have you join us for a picnic, I was just laying down the throw so the servants knew where to lay the food." She pointed to a large red and gold mat that sat in the most shaded part of the field, Lyanna had thought at first to decline the offer but upon seeing Arthur's comical look of panic and discomfort she decided to go along to this gathering suspecting that her guard was keeping some kind of shameful secret from her that she could later exploit for her amusement._

_After all the other ladies had arrived and were happily snacking on sweet cakes and rich desserts, Cersei arrived in the most elaborate dress of gold and green that Lyanna had ever seen, its embellishments and train looked more suited for a wedding aisle than a picnic in the garden. Lyanna snorted under her breath at the blatant display of riches and power, thinking it shallow and conceited. Lady Alannys - who she had come to think was giddy and foolish, stood and made way for Cersei as though she were some kind of Queen, to which she was awarded with a quiet thank you and a forced smile. If Lyanna hadn't been watching her face she probably would have missed the look of distaste that flashed in Cersei's green eyes upon seeing her. Though she hid it quickly with a seemingly genuine smile before bowing into a curtsey even more graceful than Lady Oakheart's;_

_"Your Grace" Cersei purred, rising quickly as though bowing in such a way was beneath her; "to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"_

_Lyanna quickly tried to chew and swallow the remnants of food in her mouth that had been forgotten to concentrate on observing the lady lioness; "Lady Alannys invited us after coming across Arthur and I, forgive my intrusion -"_

_"Not at all, Your Grace" she ensured, though there was something in her voice that made Lyanna weary; "Our Lord King had voiced only this morning how he would like for his Queen to have more **female** company."_

_"Did he just?" Lyanna dryly replied, annoyed that Rhaegar would speak for her in such a way without her knowledge._

_"Aye, Your Grace. Surely all this male company you keep involves more testosterone than even a woman such as yourself could appreciate. Besides you'll have us believing our Queen is too good for our company if you keep locking yourself away with our young prince. Speaking of who, where may I ask is Prince Jon, Your Grace?" Lyanna didn't like the way Cersei said anything, as though she was concealing slights in every word she spoke with a feigned smile._

_"He is with Lady Alerie's wee one Margaery and her youngest boy Loras, pray tell me Lady Cersei where is your son?" The wolfish smile playing on Lyanna's lips was met with the fierce penetrating glare of the flower lioness._

_"I have not yet born a child my Queen, with my lord husband constantly in the mountains trying to breach Dorne's rebellious defences I have not yet had the opportunity to conceive as I'm sure other wives would know" looking around the circle she received nods of agreement from a few of the ladies, even Lady Alerie who was usually so kind towards Lyanna could not help but concur with a slight hum. "Not all of us are given the opportunity to simply run away to fulfil our lusts."_

_"And what is that supposed to mean exactly Lady Cersei" Lyanna growled, slowly feeling cornered by judgemental looks and hushed murmurs._

_"Why I mean only as I say, Your Grace. You are truly blessed to have been able to conceive such a strong and healthy heir." Cersei tried to sound hurt but Lyanna saw it for what it was. She was only drawn from the silent stare off that had begun when Arthur seemed to grunt in discomfort._

_Lady Alannys had taken the opportunity to sit on his lap now that he had decided to take a seat in the shade behind Lyanna. He seemed to be politely trying to brush her ff but she only managed to manoeuvre herself further into his hesitant embrace. She giggled playfully as he tried to stand abruptly but instead fell on top of her in what Lyanna imagined was the most scandalous position possible. Arthur blushed furiously as she whispered something into his ear, he scrambled o stand again this time successfully and made apologies for his poor footing and lack of composure. Lyanna knew something had to of gone on between the two but didn't know to what extent._

_"Pray tell me, Your Grace" Cersei started her vicious game again with the most pleasant tone Lyanna had ever heard, she almost could've mistook it for kindness; "Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell wrote my lord husband moons ago, something about inducting your lord sire into the ancient crypts?"_

_"Aye. And what of it?" She snapped, not liking the predatory smile that flickered on Cersei's face, a brief moment where you could see the cracks in her facade._

_"Well" she tried sounding offended; "I had only wondered why you are not attending, Your Grace?"_

_"Your Lord King would not allow it."_

_"By Gods my Queen" her face of shock a premeditated response; "Why one would think after suffering in such a way the King would at least see your Lord father's bones laid to rest."_

_"Suffering? What suffering?" Arthur suddenly noticing the tense atmosphere interjected, trying to make excuses to leave._

_"No! What. Suffering?" She growled at Cersei, all the woman in the group looking appalled and in disbelief of her seemingly sudden outburst, even Lady  
Alerie shook her head at her in disappointment. Lyanna couldn't care less about their disapproval right now though, the way Cersei was looking at her as though she were a plaything angered her more than anything ever before._

_"The late King had your lord father take a trial by combat for your brother's treasons against the throne, my Queen. King Aerys chose wildfire as his champion. Your late lord brother strangled himself trying to save him. Surely you knew of their deaths -"_

_Lyanna barely heard anything after that, her mind going a way else where. She had gotten to her feet and began walking, ignoring Arthur as he followed her, begging her to calm long enough to speak to him;_

_"Lyanna please, will you just stop? Do you even know where you are going?"_

_Where am I going? She thought to herself. Somewhere where she could find solace for the guilt that was now killing her. Somewhere where she could get answers, where she could get the truth. Somewhere where this was not all her fault, where she could lash out and blame another for the pain she was feeling._

_"Where is Rhaegar?" She growled menacingly._

Aye, she truly hated Cersei Lannister (never truly a Tyrell) like she did no other. The whore lioness had ruthlessly set her world a flame only to set back and enjoy the spectacle. The ladies of court still whispered about her outburst now, quietly mocking their shameless soiled Queen. Her relationship with Rhaegar was slowly falling apart around her, though part of her hoped it would endure her current state of mind and emotion, part of her wanted nothing more than to burn whatever hope was left.

"I don't need your torment right now, Your Grace." Arthur slurred once she had taken up the seat next to him.

"Who said I wish to torment you Arthur?"

He chuckled to himself, a sombre grin appearing on his face; "I am almost positive my Queen, that you were made to torment me."

Her hearty bitter laughter must've been heard across the hall as Rhaegar turned his attention from the bitch lioness and her flock of mindless followers to make eye contact with her for a mere moment; "You would not be the first man to say that Arthur. Come, you look miserable. Surely the victor of today's tourney should not look so defeated."

"I should have let Barristan win" he grumbled, emptying his cup down his throat yet again. "And you should be keeping our lord King company, instead of Willas Tyrell's lady wife" he snorted "but we do not always do the things we should, now do we."

"Ooh quite into your cups of self pity I see" she teased with a wolfish grin; "might I join you?"

"Go join your lord husband; I hear he has quite a brew of self pity that I'm sure he's more than willing to share with you."

"Pff" she scoffed "he seems to be deep into a different kind of cup, what with Lady Cersei pouring drinks down his throat and pushing her tits in his face I doubt he's feeling sorry for himself right now."

"Jealous?"

"Ha! Of what?" she laughed.

"Of her ignorance?" Arthur muttered into his cup, a flash of despair clouding his dark violet blue eyes. Lyanna thought on it for a moment;

"Yes" she whispered in truth. She wished she could be ignorant again, ignorant to the pain she caused, ignorant to the hate and disgust people felt for her. They had been so in love once, Rhaegar was the centre of her being in the nights they were sure to have created Jon and she was worth giving up everything for.

"Do you still love him?" Arthur asked out of the blue, his gaze settling on Rhaegar who looked to be trying to rid himself of his unwanted admirers.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no and sometimes its closer to hate."

"So yes then?"

"So I don't know Gods, what is this Arthur? Are you the love maester now are you?" they chuckled together sardonically in the way that they often do, finding the light in the dark. Arthur's face faded a little once his eyes settled on Alannys who was currently making her to the Tyrell stands. Lady Cersei seemed to have disappeared and in a quick moment of panic Lyanna looked to the royal podium, hoping that Rhaegar had not taken the lion whore to bed. He hadn't, of course he hadn't, for that was just not who her dragon prince was. Rhaegar sat in his throne like chair, alone with that melancholic smile on his face; his eyes seemed to see only her.

"Everyone suffered Lyanna" Arthur said as he staggered to his feet; "from the baker's boy to the King's own children. Do not think your pain is any worse than theirs, or mine, or even his" flicking his hand in Rhaegar's direction before gathering his cup in one hand and Dawn in the other; "punishing yourself this way will not make up for any of that now, nor will it help you move on. Take whatever love you can find my northern Queen, for once the sun is set" his eyes faded off into the distance; "no candle can ever replace it".

Arthur left to retire to his room, swaying slightly from side to side as he staggered across the hall. Lyanna noticed the way Lady Alannys followed him with her eyes before she too made her way out of the hall. She couldn't hep but laugh to herself, though the Kingsguard were meant to be chaste they only truly swore a vow not to wed or bare children. Arthur should use his own advice and take whatever love he can, Lyanna knew Arthur would more than likely reject Alannys' offerings of herself but she hoped the woman could atleast make him smile, he deserved to smile.

Lyanna thought more deeply that mayhaps she should move on too, she hated being so lonely and yet she isolated herself. Jon loved his father and though Rhaegar still mourns his late daughter and son he shows affection for Jon that was built solely around their pup's likes and dislikes. Rhaegar for example had tried to read their son stories of heroism and magic but Jon's attention quickly wavered and his thoughts were back on swords. From then on Rhaegar took Jon down to the training yard commentating the ongoing spars between various members of the Kingsguard and naming different swords and other weapons;

_"Ser Arthur wields a greatsword called Dawn, greatswords are the biggest of blades and are therefore wielded by the strongest of men. Your mother's forefathers wielded greatswords as well. The ancestral weapon of House Stark is a valyrian steel greatsword named Ice." Rhaegar had smiled fondly at Jon who listened wide eyed and intently. Lyanna had loved Rhaegar for that, for never forgetting their boy was as much ice as he was fire, though how could you when he was so much a Stark?_

They both loved their son, that much was certain. A part of her would love Rhaegar for ever for that reason alone, he gave her Jon, half of Jon was him. She could try to deny it all she wanted, try to pretend that there wasn't a glimmer of lilac in Jon's eyes from time to time, that melancholy hadn't already found its way into her small solemn pup but there was no point in lying to ones self. Absentmindedly she made her way across the hall to where Rhaegar sat, looking suddenly surprised that she was coming to him. She laughed to herself; of course he would be surprised she hadn't come to him in public for moons. 

"Might I keep you company my Lord?" she offered with as much of a smile as she could muster. Lyanna was never good at feigning smiles; she had given them so freely once she had not thought one day she would have to force them. Rhaegar only smiled at her attempt and stood to assist her on to the dais. They ignored the whispers and murmurs that instantly broke out, no doubt about the Queen's sudden display of formality and courtly manner.

"Have you enjoyed the tourney my Queen?"

"I've enjoyed it some", she said taking up the empty seat next to Rhaegar; "and you?"

"It's more enjoyable now" he said smiling at her, her stomach began to feel a flutter despite herself. Rhaegar always had a way of making her feel like a stupid little girl, giddy with promise of romance and love. "Did you thank Arthur for crowning you?"

"No" she snorted indignantly, she'll never be grateful for that crown, not now, not ever again. "Did you thank him for crowning me?"

"No" he answered honestly, neither of them cared for any reminders of the last tourney; "though I did thank him for not crowning Lady Alannys Oakheart." 

"Please, anyone with a brain can see she was merely a vent for his frustrations and anguish. Alannys is too dull witted to truly inspire Arthur, though I doubt he thinks much of her wit when he is with her any how."

"Lya" Rhaegar admonished though the playfully upturned twitch of his lips told Lyanna he was not truly scolding her; "you shouldn't speak so of the lady or our Kingsguard." His face darkened albeit it was only for a mere second like flash of a passing shadow; "Besides I'd rather not think on what kind of woman inspires Arthur."

"I did not manage to see who won the melee today" she said after a drag of silence, trying again to establish conversation that seems lost on them all to easily; "Jon didn't much like the heat and needed attending to for most of today's finals."

"It is going into spring now; the sun is a lot brighter here than it is in the Crownlands"

"Or the North" Lyanna accidentally muttered aloud. They had argued over her returning to the North too many times now, and she had spent too many long hours alone because of it.

"Lyanna we talked about this -"

"I know" she quickly interrupted before things blew out of proportion; "I wasn't trying to start the argument again, I was just.. Thinking"

"About?" He asked softly, as though she were a vulnerable creature he did not wish to frighten away.

"Home" she began listing; "Winterfell, snow, cold, family" she looked at Rhaegar whose eyes stared at her so searchingly, like he had the time he unmasked her in the woods surrounding Harrenhal. It had sent shivers pulsing through her, to be looked at like she was answer to the meaning of life, like she was his light in the darkness. "I want a family again Rhaegar, with strong sons who spar from dawn till dusk and a beautiful daughter who sings sweet songs and sows favours for her brothers. I want a pack to call mine own again, that will fill me with joy and replace the sorrow that's been burnt into my heart" her voice had faded off into a wishful whisper.

Rhaegar pecked kisses to the back of her hand, trailing from her knuckles to the insides of her wrist where her pulse jumped and quickened in response. His murmured reply was almost inaudible against her skin but she heard clear enough; "I want that too" he whispered lustfully. They made love that night, for the first time in longer than she cared to remember. Their lover's song filling their chamber with the sound of love and hope once more. Rhaegar spilled his seed inside her as often as he could, Lyanna prayed one would take root and quicken, and both hoped to have a family once more. If not for themselves, then for each other.


	15. Tywin I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay quick notes I pretty much took chess and called it cyvasse, so shoot me. I finished this chapter I don't know how many months ago but right before I was due to post I was called home for my great-grandmother's passing and then my computer decided to crash -,- grr. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy

Tywin Lannister – 286 AL, destination unknown

 

For three years he'd been working as the Hand to the King, almost single-handedly rebuilding the kingdom Rhaegar had almost destroyed with the aid of his mad lord father and the wolf whore posing for a Queen. It had been more difficult than he had first anticipated, repairs were costly and the demand for labourers hindered the amount of useful banner men. With Dorne declaring independence many towns reliant on trade from the south suffered citrus fruit shortages, resulting in many cases of scurvy in sailors. A skin of dornish wine rose to a ridiculous twenty silver moons everywhere above the red mountains. Silks, olives, pomegranates and spices all became less accessible and more expensive. The economy suffered for it but not substantially enough to cause any real damage, albeit the small folk suffered starvation and poverty, nobles and knights never saw such hardship – at least not in the Westerlands.

It plagued him however that his ever humble King had not yet retracted his offer to crown one of the Martell snakes a Queen. Tywin had been through this before with the boy’s lord father, though Aerys' motives had been of an entirely different nature he denied Tywin all the same. Aerys had betrothed Rhaegar to the viper whore's sickly whelp that was later cast aside for a wild mutt. Tywin would not have history repeat itself.

"You are very good at cyvasse, Lord Lannister. I did not think it was a common pass time north of Dorne?" The man drawled, his dark almond eyes looking to be studying the board before him intently. If Tywin had less control he probably would have snorted, this game was over in no more than three turns each. He had learnt the basics of cyvasse from his lady wife, however, even though Joanna was quick of wit (sometimes even more so than himself) Tywin beat her the first time he had ever played the game and later – much to Joanna's fury and Tywin's amusement; she refused to play him ever again after losing three consecutive games. It wasn't until his first visit to court that Tywin truly learnt how to play the game;

 

_He had not seen Joanna in over ten moons and though the two wrote regularly he couldn't help but miss his sweet cousin. Joanna inspired joy in him like nothing else could, when she laughed it was like a choir of angels in heaven sung a song that only he could hear, and yet Tywin despised laughter from any other. He would have been a boy of only ten and five and still he knew he would marry Joanna, Tywin had always known he would. She had been the first one he looked for when the grand entry way of the Red Keep came into sight. Joanna was unmistakable clad in a simple yet elegant dress of crimson and gold. 'Always so proud to be a Lannister' he thought fondly. With her golden hair left down and unadorned, her face fresh and bare of any paints, she looked like a goddess in flesh. The captivating smile on her face would have held his attention longer if it were not for the way Joanna grasped at the hand of some serving wench._

_"Welcome Tywin" the kind voice of King Aegon the fifth beckoned, interrupting him from his observations; "I pray your journey was a pleasant one boy?" Tywin cringed, the word 'boy' sounded far too inferior for his liking, quite like 'dog'. He respected his King well enough but Tywin would have to change the opinion His Grace had of him, and quickly. He was no mere 'boy'._

_"It was indeed Your Grace" he replied with a bow before rising to meet his Lord King's eyes again, proud as a lion; "we managed to arrive with great haste."_

_"Aye" Aegon nodded in agreement as he looked to calculate how long it had taken Tywin and the distance travelled; "you did not bring a retinue? You are aware you will be here for a year or two?"_

_"One year my lord, I hardly need a large retinue as it would only serve to slow my arrival and consume my resources. I brought only my brother and two guards."_

_"Hmm" he pondered, "and your lord father was confident with that decision lad?"_

_"I was confident with that decision, Your Grace"_

_"I see" Aegon almost chuckled with what seemed like amusement in his eyes. Tywin didn't know what to make of that, did his King think him funny? Some fool green boy to laugh at? He would most definitely have to do something to change that._

_"Come, my granddaughter’s ladies have been awaiting your arrival for quite some time now. I do believe Lady Joanna was quite anxious to see you." With a smile looking to tug at the corner of his lips the King gestured to the girls behind him._

_"Cousin Tywin!" Joanna called as she waved her hand above her head in what was the most unseemly fashion; Tywin could've almost smiled at her unladylike display if it had not been for the way the serving wench seemed to chastise her. Joanna looked at the woman like a young girl does her septa, then dropped her hand quickly to take a more formal stance, turning Tywin's almost-smile into an ever familiar frown._

_"Cousin Joanna, it is good to see you well" he said, gently taking her delicate hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it. She did not blush, not like Genna's simpering ladies did, nor did she avert her eyes. Tywin had always loved that about her, aye she was beautiful to look at and one would think she was as gentle as a summer breeze but Joanna was fierce when necessary, she would not shy away like a lamb, she was a lioness._

_"It is good just to see you, my lord" she replied boldly, though the look in her forest green eyes told him she believed it true. A girl of roughly the same age as Joanna; dressed in the plain white gown that a septa might wear, her hair hidden under a white lace veil embroidered with seven pointed stars held in place by a simple ringlet of silver, giggled from behind Joanna drawing her attention. The two shared a secret look before giggling again together, Tywin furrowed his brow, Joanna had never acted so with any of the girls at the Rock. Though he wouldn't admonish her for building such – bonds with people at court, he wasn't fond of the idea of Joanna turning into one of these simple minded ladies-in-waiting._

_"Please allow me to introduce you to the princesses, my lord" Joanna's playful smile broadened as she grabbed hold of the girl's tiny pale hand; "this maiden reborn is Princess Rhaella Targaryen." Tywin had known that beforehand of course, the tell-tale Targaryen traits gave her away instantly – even if they were hidden under a septa’s veil._

_"Princess" he murmured head bowed over the hand that was not held by Joanna's._

_"A pleasure to finally meet you Lord Tywin" she replied with a curtsey, flashing an almost cheeky smile at Joanna who only cockily smirked back._

_"And this" Joanna added excitedly, as she reached for the serving maid; "is Princess Loreza Nymeros Martell of Dorne, heiress to Sunspear." Joanna looked at the woman as though the sun rose and set at her feet; it disturbed him to his core. The two seemed to share a silent conversation of facial expressions as they squeezed at each other’s hands. On closer inspection the 'princess' was dressed in much finer quality silk than the colour would have you believe from a distance. The burnt rust orange brought the olive of her skin out well but it looked far too like clay mud for his liking. 'Red is much better' he thought._

_Unlike the other (more rightful) princess, Loreza did not offer Tywin her hand. Instead she raised an eyebrow at him as she scanned him up and down with her judgemental black eyes. "This is Tywin?" she lazily drawled to Joanna, as though he were something to be spoken about, not to._

_"Lori –" Joanna whispered imploringly. If Tywin had not been so enraged with the viper bitch's insolence, he might have gasped in surprise at the closeness between the two. Joanna was expected to have relations with others in the Red Keep, of course, though he had thought her wise enough to make such close ties with people more suitable. Like for example someone who wasn't the King's ward._

_After they shared a private conversation in hushed hisses, the viper bitch turned to him with a forced smile. "Pray, forgive me. It is only –“trailing off she flashed a look at Joanna that was somewhere between disappointment and pity; "I expected more." She fell into a curtsey that mimicked sarcastic mockery more than propriety, before turning her heel and taking hold of Princess Rhaella's arm;_

_"Come Ella, let us pray to your Gods for the sanity of our sweet Joan."_

_He had only ever wanted to strike one woman before in his life, though he couldn't be blamed for the ire he brew for the whore his father had brought home to the Rock, Loreza Nymeros Martell of Sunspear became the second. Who did the viper whore think she was to look down on him so? Mock him as though he were not even there. Mock Joanna for whatever connection she thought Joanna and he had. If they were anywhere else, with any other company he would have struck her down and slit her throat. She was no more than a prisoner in a keep that was not her own, a ward of the crown! Whatever titles those vile snakes adorn themselves with she was just a woman and here she was insulting him, insulting Joanna. He would not allow it, for the pride of his House he would never allow it. Tywin had thought of a million convenient ways the 'princess' could make an early acquaintance with the Stranger in the space of mere moments when he suddenly felt Joanna lace her arms through his and press her body flush against him;_

_"Tywin" she whispered gently into his ear before pulling away from him to a distance that was more proper of a maid and a lord; "please forgive the Princess, she meant no disrespect to you" She needn't clarify which one of course, Joanna was asking him to forgive the snake slut, but why? She mocked us, looked down on us, and made us look like fools;_

_"She's my best friend."_

_"Friend?" He snorted._

_"Aye" she replied merrily, completely ignoring Tywin's disbelief; "best friends. Like sisters." She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his as she led him into the Keep, it wasn't proper for court but he cared not;_

_"She worries for me as close friends do. You do have friends don't you Tywin?" She was grinning at first as though it was a joke, of course he had friends, everyone had friends. And yet as the silence dragged on her smile faded and realisation dawned in her eyes. No, he most certainly did not have friends._

_"Well" she said sounding at a loss for words; "at least you have me." Her smile was surely being mirrored by his own, though no one else saw it, only Joanna. Tywin only ever smiled for Joanna. And just like that all wroth he had for desert whore was forgotten, subsided by the love and happiness he felt with Joanna._

_For now._

 

"It isn't well known at all above the marches, Lord Yronwood" Tywin replied after allowing his opponent the silence to concentrate on his inevitable demise for long enough. He took a sip of no doubt the richest dornish wine outside of Dorne itself. _'Men would kill to have this'_ he knew, there were hundreds so dependent on the escape of reality one finds in the red of a dornish wine cup, that a depression of sorts had set in amongst the small people and lesser knights. Even with Arbor gold still making it to the Reach, Dorne's constant sea raids on the island made the task more difficult and in turn the Redwyne's raised the price of their wine to almost match Dornish Red. Crime was on the rise and the streets of Flea Bottom flooded with rape, theft, debauchery and orphans (far more so than usual) threatening to spill into the rest of King's Landing. Rhaegar was constantly losing sleep for it and his whore 'Queen' helped him not. It all worked in Tywin's favour of course; he was the first to take the opportunity to do secret trades with Dorne, specifically the Yronwoods;

"My late lady wife became rather – acquainted with all things dornish during her time at court. She taught me the basics of the game."

"The basics?" He murmured in disbelief, rubbing his chin in deep thought while his eyes still studied the board. For a moment he hesitated as he reached to touch one of his pieces though he took his hand away before his pawn was seen as 'moved'. Tywin's mouth could have twisted into a smirk, _'A man who hesitates is man who loses'_ though any amusement Tywin felt fled him the moment he remembered the source of those words;

 

_Loreza Nymeros Martell of Dorne had been the most intellectual, ambitious, ruthless and calculated person he had ever come to know. If anyone ever doubted it, her skill in cyvasse proved it to be true. The first time they had played he lost in only five moves, the second time, in ten. Every time she won he waited for her to scoff, snort or roll her eyes at his failure, glower over him like she was better than he but thankfully (only 'thankfully' because if she had, Tywin would have to ignore Joanna's pleas and skinned the snake alive) Loreza never did. She only ever looked at him with disappointment or disgust – which was reciprocated duly of course. Kevan and Joanna were well into a game of their own;_

_"Play Loreza" Joanna teased, she knew how much he hated losing and she thought he would no doubt lose to the snake. Joanna loved it of course 'Oh how the mighty have fallen' her eyes had taunted him. This game had caused Tywin much frustration; in fact, he spent the last two nights studying whatever books the library had to offer on it just to beat the insipid woman at her own game. He had never lost anything before in his life; not a single race, spar, test or anything else someone could challenge him with. Due to the lack of respect people had for his father there was never a lack of challengers in the Westerlands, but never had he lost anything until he met Loreza._

_"Do not offer me as an opponent Joanna" the snake lazily drawled, not even bothering to raise her eyes from whatever historical babble she was reading; "I do tire of winning so easily."_

_Something inside him snapped upon hearing her words, something he assumed was his self-control. Tywin had stalked over to her so quickly that he hadn't realised he had ripped the book from her hands until she stood her full height, craning her neck with her chin titled upwards to meet his glare with a dark defiant look of her own; "Play" he demanded, pointing to the available board next to Joanna and Kevan, who looked between him and each other with concern. Loreza glanced at Joanna for a moment then nodded; although anyone could see she was not happy about it Loreza took up a seat and began organising her pieces into their starting position. A war began between them without as much as another word._

_Joanna and Kevan had ended their game long ago; Joanna emerging as the victor, much to his brother's dismay. The two had been watching the match intently for at least an hour before Kevan opted to find a book to read, and Joanna went to sewing with Princess Rhaella (who had arrived in a flurry of giggles on the arm of Bonifer Hasty)._

_Tywin knew he was losing; he seemed to be constantly on the defensive, never finding an opening for an attack of his own. His opponent had started to look bored, an expression worse than any smirk of mockery he had ever witnessed directed at his father. How long had he taken to make a move? Did she think him dull-witted for taking so much time? Tywin reached for his Queen, grazing his fingertips across the intricate crown carved atop the piece's head before tearing his hand away quickly. Not the Queen, she's worth too much. If he hadn't noticed the slight curl of Loreza's lips he might have risked the sacrifice after all but Tywin took her pawn with his bishop instead, feeling quite confident in his decision. It was a safe move for now and he had earned himself a piece without losing one of his own;_

_"You've been practicing young lion" she chimed as she effortlessly moved one of her pieces, finishing her turn before he even had a chance to think; "should I be flattered?"_

_"Not in the least" he scoffed in hopes of concealing his transparency; "I've only taken quite a liking to the game is all." To his relief the next play came to him quickly. If Tywin played his cards right he could take her Queen, guaranteeing his victory.  
"You've improved greatly" an empty sounding compliment to his ears; "but tell me, why didn't you use your Queen?"_

_"What –"_

_"Before" she interrupted, the hint of a smirk on her face; "you were going to use your Queen to take my knight but you didn't, why?"_

_A stupid question he thought, because he would've lost his Queen. It might have created an opening but; "I would rather not lose my most valuable piece for a knight"_

_"I didn't take you for the sentimental type" she purred in a way that sounded suspiciously like a joke before moving her Queen into a most vulnerable position; "surely no sacrifice is too much for victory?" He assessed her briefly trying to gauge what she had meant by it. Could he have won had he sacrificed his Queen? He shook the doubt away quickly; she was only trying to distract him from the game. With a smirk he took her Queen with his bishop, only momentarily thinking it odd that she allowed such a piece to be taken so easily._

_"You put too much value into a piece's worth" she stated, calmly taking the knight he had previously spared to take his castle; "and not enough time using them as the disposable ploys they are. Check."_

_"And yet you are the one without a Queen" he sneered, trying not to let his aggravation seep through too obviously. Snakes like this wench would only use his frustration against him. He moved his bishop without much thought wanting to rid himself of the castle that was coming dangerously close to his King._

_"Aye, and yet you are the one left completely open" before he could fully register what she meant the knight he had paid so little attention to moved into a square of striking distance to his King; "Check. Mate" She accentuated with finality, his face contorted into a scowl as the whore princess looked at him like a foolish boy who dared to challenge a man grown._

_"The moment you hesitated you confirmed my victory you know?" Loreza asked rhetorically as she took back the book he had confiscated, quickly scanning through it to find her place in its pages; "In a single flinch you said you didn't know where you were going or what you were doing. You told me you hadn't thought ahead at all and were so focused on playing for the moment you were blind to what was coming. A man who hesitates is man without a plan."_

_After finding wherever she had left off in her book she finally looked at him instead of ignoring his presence like a peasant "A man who hesitates is a man who loses" she says, as if she were some teacher and he her student. Bah! Vain, insipid, viper bitch has the gall to even think such a thing._

_"Until next time Lord Tywin," she curtseyed in the mocking sort of fashion she had, though he would remember that moment always as it was the first and last time Loreza Martell would address him so, it almost sounded respectful; "do practice. I should say I would prefer more of a challenge."_

_Almost._

 

"Aye, the basics" Tywin answered, though he did not need to for the question was not meant to be spoken aloud. "The late Princess Loreza showed me the true –" he trailed off taking his piece to put his opponent in check; "nature of the game. And I do believe you are in check, Lord Osmund."

"Loreza" the man hissed the name like a curse under his breath; "I had no idea you were acquainted with her Lord Lannister" Osmund seemed to have lost interest in the game realising his defeat was inevitable and humbly acknowledged Tywin with a slight bow. For all that the man was a treacherous oaf of a thing at least he had some class. It was poor etiquette to continue a game where the possibility of escaping loss was next to impossible, though Tywin internally revelled at the slight annoyance he could see in the dark dornish features of the Yronwood lord. Victory is always sweet, whether it was easily won or not.

"She was an unwanted acquaintance I assure you"

"Ha! I'm sure" Osmund snorted in amusement before he took another swig of wine; "the Yronwoods held no love for our princess" he spat the word sarcastically. "She was the first woman to rule Dorne since the Toad Queen Mariya's eldest daughter of the same name died slaying the Dragon Whore and her mount. To secure the throne Loreza was meant to take a dornish consort –“

"And yet she married her braavosi sellsword" Tywin finished, for he knew better than this fool probably did. He had met the noble sellsword on only one occassion, though once was more than memorable enough;

 

_The formal ceremony had gone off without a hitch, and guests were now well into their cups at the reception. Joanna was more radiant than ever before in the pure white bridal gown she, Rhaella and Loreza had spent years embellishing with jewels and intricate needlework. She was a beauty beyond words that day, so much so that she drew even the eye of the recently wed dragon prince._

_"You are far too lucky Tywin" Aerys sneered, barely concealing his envy; "a beauty so great should belong to no man but the King." Tywin bristled slightly hearing the hidden threat concealed in Aerys' word. 'And soon, you will be King' Tywin thought with an ominous kind of lingering panic. Aerys had made his attraction to Joanna obvious and almost everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew of his unrequited infatuations, though the idea seemed more pathetic than anything in the meantime, soon Aerys will be raised to a position of power that made the thought more like a nightmare._

_"I am most blessed indeed my Prince" he purred in the pleasing manner of court, the complete opposite of how the lion within him wished to roar and rip out the throat of an unworthy 'dragon'; "as you are, with our lovely Princess Rhaella" Aerys shuddered a little at the reminder, almost drawing a satisfied smile to Tywin's face. King Aegon in some bout of madness (the type that seemed inescapable if you were cursed with the last name Targaryen) decided to listen to Duncan's common succubus and heed the word of some wood witch, leading to the (forced) marriage between Aerys and Rhaella. Both had not been pleased with the betrothal and were nearly held at sword point to say the vows, apparently Aerys had hoped to wed Joanna but all that was thwarted after the witch told her prophecy of some promised prince._

_"Rhaella is pleasing enough" Aerys said smirking wickedly into his cup; "for now" he added, almost inaudibly._

_Tywin felt a cold shiver running down his spine, these quiet threats did not go unnoticed and sooner or later the lion will lash out. He gripped the arms of his chair, clenching and unclenching the rounded end in his fist. Suddenly some drunken fool staggered up onto the dais, excusing his clumsiness as he tried to make his way to the available seat next to Tywin._

_"Who in hells do you think you are?" Tywin growled through clenched teeth, he would not have some foreign jester ruin his wedding._

_"It matters not who I think I am" the mysterious man answered, undeterred by the fury burning in Tywin's eyes “it only matters who I think you are." He spoke his riddles matter-of-factly, as though they weren't some mindless drabble of an illiterate man who knew little words. The accent instantly gave away his Braavosi heritage, though his glowing blue eyes made him almost look Volantene. He was dressed in a well-tailored and designed outfit of black-blue silk like leather; it wasn't ostentatious or over the top but the fit of his attire and the quality of the materials spoke of wealth and nobility._

_"And who do you think he is?" Aerys chimed, never one to miss a chance to laugh at Tywin's expense._

_"Why I believe he is the proud young lion of the Rock" the man replied in the thick accent he had only heard from bankers and sea faring merchants flying purple sails from their ships; "and you, must be the overgrown lizard" he added with a snake like smile that brought out a dark glare in the unworldly blue of his eyes._

_"How dare –“Aerys began to shrill but the man simply cut him off_

_"Allow me to formally introduce myself gentlemen" he mockingly bowed, "I am Emilio Antaryon, Prince –“_

_“I care not who you are" Aerys spat, enraged at the audacity of the Essossi man; "I shall have you drawn and quartered before this day is out I assure you" he threatened, his eyes turning a menacingly close to black purple in his anger._

_"Enough" the familiar bored roll of a dornish tongue called out; "you are making a show of yourself Aerys, do have some control."_

_Aerys' reaction should have been captured in time, for Tywin would love to see that shocked look of insult and rage again and again. "Of course this insolent peasant is associated with you!" He hissed accusingly, pink wine-stained spittle flying from his mouth in sprays of anger like a venomous snake._

_"Aye he is" Loreza answered in that devil may care way she had; "Emilio is my Prince Consort" she addressed with a proud smile as she reached to lace herself in her man whore's embrace "I should have liked to introduce him under different circumstances but he does like trouble -"_

_"Which is why I fell for you so, my love" the adoring gaze they shared with only one another and the slight giggle that bubbled from the viper wench's lips almost made him wish to blind himself. The two were far too – close for his liking; courtly manner dictated that they should at least have the decency to keep their hands from roaming each other’s bodies while in the presence of others! 'The Dornish are a vulgar breed' he thought with disdain._

_"Enough of this insolence!" Aerys shrieked, he had risen from his seat of honour and was waving his hands angrily in the dornish woman's direction, "Ser Duncan I want these fools arrested!"_

_Duncan the Tall regardless of age was a huge man, close to nearly seven foot. His hair had greyed all over and the well-kept beard on his chin was just as white as his Kingsguard armour "My Prince, do you truly wish to make such a scene –“ he started trying to reason, but Aerys rarely ever saw reason._

_"You will do as I command you to, I am the crowned Prince and future King!"_

_"But you are not the King, Aerys" Loreza hummed close to a predatory growl; "Your grandfather is King and after him your father, let us pray they both have a long and prosperous reign" the last part announced to all the guests to invoke a loud cheer of 'aye's, which only worked to further anger the Prince. "Whereas I am Crowned Princess of Dorne, overall ruling power of my people" Loreza continued softly, though it was more like a threatening hiss than a soothing murmur; "you will not threaten me or my prince ever again" she closed the space between them and whispered in Aerys' ear, though it were loud enough for both Tywin and her consort to hear; "or I will have every spear in Dorne march over those mountains just to tear you a new ass hole."_

_"Princess Loreza" Ser Duncan warned with a firm voice; "let us not ruin things for Lady Joanna on her most special day."_

_"Of course Ser Dunk, Aerys and I were only clarifying our roles and positions" Loreza smiled as though butter wouldn't melt in her big mouth, a smile she preserved only for the King, Jaeherys, Ser Duncan and his namesake Duncan of Dragonflies. It was rather peculiar that a hostage should form such an affinity with their host though such things did happen when a ward is taken as a mere toddler._

_"You think you're so clever don't you Loreza" Aerys hissed, his loathing for the woman pouring into every word he said; "you think you're one step ahead and yet you're always three behind. Do not forget when the time comes I will hold all the cards" a sinister smirk suddenly replaced his anguish, as though he found some kind of sadistic pleasure in things still to come; "and then, then my fiery sun princess, who will save you from me?"_

_If one had not known the odd association between the two, they would take this quarrel as the beginnings of war. Aerys and Loreza had always shared an affinity that bordered so close to hate Tywin often feared for the safety of the realm should it be one day left in their care. He had always thought that he and the snake woman had a loathing for each other so deep that it could never be matched by any other, that no one could make Aerys lose sleep like him nor could anyone provoke panic in either of them like Tywin did. And yet as he watched them face off like this, he saw how little the lion mattered to the dragon and the sun._

_"Lori!" The enchanting voice of his golden wife beckoned; "what are you doing up there? Come! Dance!" Joanna looked flushed with exertion though the rosy blush of her cheeks and the way the curls of her hair sought freedom from their intricate coils and plaits only made her look more perfect, like a goddess of flesh and blood. Princess Rhaella twirled around in Joanna's arms as though Joanna were the lead in some baldy dance and Rhaella her lady._

_"I blame Emilio!" Rhaella declared; "you send him up there to make friends with your lord husband Joan, and instead he disappears with our princess"_

_"You have right of it sweet Ella" Joanna agreed with a teasing smile; "you must learn to share you wretched fish monger!"_

_"Never!" The braavosi man whore answered with a laugh. Emilio seemed to have made himself quite comfortable on Tywin's dais of honour, having sprawled out on a chair of gold plated oak and crimson velvet cushions like he were some kind of king. The man was almost as arrogant as the woman he wed but like his snake wench Joanna seemed to admire him, and for that Tywin would not disrespect him in Joanna's presence, though he struggled to fight the urge to at least chastise the man. His lazy posture, the way he toyed with the dagger in his hands, the way his features would almost turn feral with a lustful hunger every time his eyes fell on his snake wife (which happened far too regularly as far as Tywin was concerned) only aided to remind Tywin of the almost common birth of the man. 'I thought she'd have more sense than to choose a glorified fish merchant for a consort' he snorted internally._

_A flash of indignant rage crossed Emilio's face as soon as the thought was conjured in Tywin's mind; "Forgive me young lion, my understanding of Westerosi history is very – how do you say? Vague?"_

_'Good Gods I'm surprised you even know how to read Westerosi, what a well trainned pet you are' Tywin japed to himself, resisting the desperate want to let the words roll from his mind, off his tongue and onto the wind. "I should imagine Westerosi history lessons were not a necessity in Essos" he said instead._

_If the candles had not been flickering Tywin could have sworn he saw the man's eyes glow in another worldly way; "Not a necessity. No, but indulge me if you will lord?" Tywin gave a brief nod in reply, his mouth tightened into a thin white line as he did so. "There are nine great houses descended from Kings and Lords of the Age of Heroes, correct?" Again he waited for a nod; 'At least the fool did not say seven'_

_"House Targaryen of the Crownlands; Kings by conquest" he began listing, counting them off on his fingers like a child recalling the things they'd learnt in their lessons; "The bastard Targaryen house; Baratheon of the Stormlands, Lords by conquest. The Starks of the North" he near spat, Tywin noted the slight downturn of his lips at the mention of the Starks, 'So the fisherman knows the wolf has had his share of the catch does he? What? Did the wolf leave a mark?' Tywin sneered, again only to himself. He had more control than to allow others to hear his most honest thoughts._

_Though as soon as he thought the words the rage in Emilio's eyes blazed again with new found fury, as though the man had heard him. 'Preposterous' Tywin would chastise himself like he did every time he thought Rhaella was looking into his soul, or when he swore he could hear the angry hisses of shadows talking to Aerys, or when he'd have a full conversation with Loreza and yet Kevan had sworn he heard no words._

_"Kings by conquest." Emilio finished coldly, through tightly clenched teeth; "The Arryns of the Vale, Kings by conquest. The Tullys of the Riverlands, Lords by conquest. The Greyjoys of the Iron Islands, Lords by conquest. The Tyrells of the Reach, Lords by conquest. The Nymeros Martells!" He declared proudly, his face breaking into a wide, proud smile when his wife took her attentions from the music long enough to smile at him suggestively; "Queens by conquest" he said, deeper and more huskily than he probably intended to._

_"That leaves the Lannisters of the Westerlands, Kings by – how do you say?" He twirled his hand around in circular motions as though to reel the right word out of the depths of his mind; "trickery and deceit?" The smile the bravoosi now wore was the kind Tywin hated the most, the kind he had seen directed at his father when his whore made his decisions, the kind that Lord Tarbeck wore when his lady wife retrieved him from his imprisonment, and the kind that invoked rage in Tywin like nothing else. One day, no man will ever dare to smile at Tywin Lannister that way but before Tywin had a chance to rebuke the man's analysis, Emilio continued on his history review;_

_"Braavos was founded half a millennia before the dragons conquered Westeros, by free men and women of equal standing and common aspirations" his eyes bore into Tywin's in a way that told him he had Emilio's full and undivided attention – whether that was a good thing or not was something up for debate. The silver dagger he had been spinning atop his fingertips seemed to have been frozen in time on the edge of his left index finger._

_"My forefathers were among the founding men of a free nation, a nation dictated by the laws of democracy and equality." He stopped his rant to snatch the dagger from the air in a spontaneous but frightfully quick manner, an act that would have been intimidating had Tywin not been a lion; "Antaryons have been nominated as sealords by their peers for more generations than any other family." Emilio shifted closer and leaned in to Tywin so that his voice need be no more than a harsh whisper, something Tywin supposed he did to avoid being heard by an overly interested Aerys; "Their daughters have married nobles of old valyria since before the doom, the maternal grandmother of the conquerors for example; was born an Antaryon before she married a Velaryon." Emilio leaned back far enough to glare at Tywin with an intensity he found oddly similar to that of the man's wedded whore; "Antaryons are chosen by their people to lead them into glory, chosen by the Gods of free men to champion their cause, chosen by nobles of the oldest blood to bare them their sons and heirs. Now tell me lion lord in waiting, if I was to ask your banner men who is their liege lord, do you think they would roar 'Lannister' like the beast of your sigil?"_

_Emilio gave an indicative nod in the direction where men and ladies of Houses Tarbeck and Reyne had been seated. The whole table seemed to be murmuring and snickering to each other, with what Tywin imagined were hushed slights and plots against their lord paramount. When Tywin looked back to the insufferable 'free' refugee, his face was now marred with that 'I told you so' look that both Joanna and Genna had mastered._

_'So you see little lion man, if anyone is to judge me as a glorified fisherman, it most certainly is not a glorified liar.' Tywin's eyes widened in both surprise and disbelief, he had had such moments with only three others before, though this time was more clear, more definite than any of the other times. Tywin Lannister knew what he heard and yet Emilio's mouth formed no words, as though the words had been spoken and heard with only the mind._

_The revelation however was instantly forgotten once Tywin fully registered the triumphant and cocky look the man now gave him. He felt a boiling, acrimonious hate rise within him. How dare he? In Tywin's own keep, at his own wedding feast, seated at his own table of honour! How fucking dare he disgrace the Lannister name so openly, so freely, right in Tywin's face!? He rose from his seat, face burning red with rage, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his molars clamped so firmly together he was afraid his teeth might shatter-_

_"Emilio!" Joanna called with a hint of alarm, Tywin thought perhaps she sensed a change in him like he often did with her but it seemed the viper wench she had alerted Joanna to Tywin's barely controlled animosity; "Come. Dance with me on my wedding night." If it had of been anyone else Tywin would have objected, no one gets in the way of a lion and his kill, no one but Joanna._

_"But my lady, it would be rude –“_

_"To deny a lady a dance on her wedding night" Joanna interrupted with the sharp grin she wore when she knew she was victorious, he loved that about Joanna, the competitive strive she had. Right now however, he was less than pleased. "Now come" she commanded the bravoosi man in a way that had him on his feet albeit reluctantly; "Dance."_

_Joanna whispered something in Loreza's ear that looked to have disgusted and appalled the snake like nothing else but after a few pleading looks and what Tywin thought was begging Loreza gave the slight bow she generally did when consenting to anything. As Emilio crossed his slut wife's path Tywin saw the man reach out and slap her crudely on the ass like a common whore, to which she only squealed in delight at. 'Smutty whores' he thought. He had barely started to see straight through the haze of his lingering outrage when he realised the viper wench was coming towards him. He shot Joanna an indignant glare (which was ignored much to his further irritation), then gathered himself to calm his temperament as much and as quickly as he could, knowing the snake whore was coming to ask him to dance._

_"I trust you gather why I'm here?" she said once she'd reached the dais. The height difference between the stone floor and the platform that Tywin stood on was so great that Loreza's eyes were level with the bottom of his boot and though her stare was directed straight into Tywin's eyes he liked the sense of authority he felt glowering over the presumptuous desert heathen like the lesser being she was. Tywin didn't justify her question with an answer; he only snorted and descended down the dais to take the snakes hand in a dance._

_She looked immaculate as usual, in the vulgar kind of dornish way she had. The neckline of her dress was a dragon glass and onyx choker that matched the bangles adorning her wrists and the rings on her fingers. The dress itself clung to her body then fell from her hips to her ankles in loose folds of embroidered lace that bellowed in even the slightest wind. It was almost proper for a lady, if one managed to ignore the long slits up either side of her legs and the visibility of skin through the sheer fabric. However none of that bothered Tywin (or any other man in the room for that matter) more than the colour, from head to toe Loreza had chosen to wear black, mourning black._

_"I pray you will excuse Emilio's behaviour" Loreza apologized, though it sounded empty and dull; "you know how men can be when their family's pride is at stake". She twirled with an effortless grace in his arms as the music began. Her movements were elegant and refined but still so natural and rhythmic, even Joanna's skills on the dance floor paled in comparison to Loreza's though he would never say so aloud._

_"I'm sure such daring could only be appreciated in Dorne" he hissed though he tried to contain most of his venom behind his still clenched teeth. "It seems Dorne differs in many ways to the rest of Westeros, for example" halting to lift it her into the air and bring her back gently (far more gently than he wished) to her feet, as was required for this particular routine; "is it not ill-boding to wear black to a wedding?" Tywin hummed, hoping that the threatening edge of it would frighten her into some kind of submission. But that of course was foolish to assume._

_"I am in mourning" she drawled as she twisted this way and that, her body seeming to follow her hips as he led her through the motions of the beat. Guests 'ooh'd and 'aah'd as they watched the two float across the floor though she paid as little attention to him as he did to her they worked together in perfect sync. They had had enough practice at the Keep with Septa Tyene, who with all her teachings of correct social etiquette had concocted a particularly cruel punishment for either of the two by assigning them as partners for the ballroom dance lessons his father's whore had insisted Tywin take._

_"Your father died over a year ago" he snarled unkindly. Forgetting any of the lessons the septa had taught them on how to appropriately speak about delicate circumstances._

_"How very observant of you Tywin" Loreza chided, the ever present lingering of sarcasm in her tone; "and yet it is another loss I mourn this night" she murmured sadly as she turned them to look in the direction of Joanna who tittered away merrily as she was spun around by the foreigner who only minutes ago had insulted their house._

_"Joanna is not dead"_

_"But you will ruin her"_

_"How would you –“_

_"Joanna is fearless; she has strength in her that is uncommon in woman born above the marches. She strives to please those around her and is capable of intelligence exceeding most men to grace your halls tonight. She has a gentle heart and an almost innocent nature, she believes in the knights of fairy tales and the warrior queens of history but whilst all of this is indeed charming, her naivety will one day be her downfall and you only add to that weakness."_

_"Me?! What –“_

_"She loves you Tywin, she always has." Loreza smiled at him for the first time in the years they had been acquainted, not the forced smile he was used to but a true smile that almost thawed his hate. "Don't let anyone use you against Joanna to persuade her into the dark, for she's silly enough to go willingly into hell for you."_

_Before he had a chance to respond he was distracted by a sudden movement on the dais. Aerys cleared his throat loudly – to no doubt gain attention for he usually commanded none, and rose from his seat; "My Lord Lannister" he beckoned to Tytos in the most authoritative voice the skink could probably muster; "whilst I am sure your guests are more than willing to dance, drink and feast the Rock into poverty" he mocked as he shot an indicative glance at the Westerlands’ most rebellious lords; "might I remind you this is a wedding and tradition dictates certain ceremonies take place before the night dies down." The wide smirk smeared across Aerys face and the way his eyes were glazed darker with eager anticipation as he gawked at Joanna left no doubt in Tywin's mind what ceremony he spoke of. Tywin pulled away from Loreza and made an attempt to push his way to Joanna but the snake stilled him with a firm hand on his forearm and a slight shake of her head._

_'It is tradition. Do not shame your lady wife with your possessive pride now Tywin. She is stronger than that.'_

_"Aye my Prince" his father eventually managed after he'd choked down his wine and meat; "Um, excuse me, yes uh begging your pardons my lords" Tytos stammered, the usual feeling of embarrassment sinking in to the pit of Tywin's stomach as his fat sire was helped to his feet by the candle maker’s daughter he had dressed up in Tywin's late lady mother finery; "shall we begin with the bedding, while the night is still young?" He asked Aerys timidly like a puppy seeking his master's approval._

_Aerys paid him no mind (though Tywin noted how Lionel Reyne had openly chortled at his lord paramount’s stumblings) though as soon as the words had managed to leave Tytos' clumsy lips Aerys had all but vaulted off the dais and made his way to Joanna. Loreza tightened her grip on his arm, though her gaze was now focused on her consort. The two seemed to say something to one another though no words were spoken._

_"Sweetest Princess" Loreza called over the flooding sea of men all making their way to leer at his wife. Something inside him felt so tense it would snap but the presence of the tight grip on his arm seemed to ground him into a sense of calm in the storm that brewed around and inside him. Rhaella – who looked to have been whispering into Joanna's ear as the two embraced one another; made her way towards the outstretched hand of the black viper woman, though her focus never left Tywin._

_A cacophony of giggles filled the room suddenly as Genna's ladies rose from their seats to join the serving maids in making their way towards him. Tywin grunted in annoyance, he had completely forgotten that he too would be stripped having only thought about what might possibly happen to Joanna. He heard a slight shriek of discomfort coming from his wife's direction, his head snapped to the side, eyes honing in on the golden beacon he'd always come to look for._

_"Emilio my love" Loreza called endearingly._

_"Yes my love" the braavosi replied though Tywin could not quite tell where he was exactly in the thicket of men surrounding Joanna._

_"Do not ruin that dress" she said in a voice far more threatening and ominous than the one just before and though the conversation occurred between only the two of them, every man in that hall heard the order and would no doubt obey. So was the aggressive charisma of the snake Princess._

_His wife stared at the only women she would ever call her 'sisters' with such adoration and appreciation that Tywin almost lost himself in the blissful daze of her beauty, even in her most flustered state she was a glory to behold._

_"Gentlemen, if you would kindly remove your persons from the Lady Lion" Emilio announced in the loud and mistakenly drunken way he had earlier, though this time he whipped out a long, fine blade from seemingly nowhere to emphasise his point; “before I remove them for you”_

_Panic once again overcame him, the consort’s declaration too dangerous to go unnoticed. Tywin ripped his arm away from Loreza in the hopes to make it to Joanna when another woman chose to block his path._

_“Lord Tywin” Rhaella addressed, curtseying elegantly with all the courtly manner of a princess. Though Tywin couldn’t care one bit for it right now, he would’ve happily thrown her aside were it not for the fact she was his future Queen – though that was indeed a huge factor;_

_“If you would please” she added, motioning for him to raise his arms. He hesitated for only a moment, repeating in his mind the words he swore Loreza had spoken;_

_‘It is tradition. Do not shame your lady wife with your possessive pride now Tywin’_

_‘Bitch!’ he spat to himself, ‘how dare she get in my head so’_

_He raised his arms reluctantly to a ninety degree angle out his sides; Rhaella quickly began to remove his doublet with slender and precise fingers, disposing of it faster than Tywin was sure he’d ever be able to himself. Stopping suddenly while she was at the buttons of his tunic to address the horde of women that had made their way to them;_

_“Your assistance will not be needed here, my ladies. You may take your seats.”_

_“Your Grace, forgive me but –“Ellyn Tarbeck tried to argue but her voice was silenced by a slight raise of Rhaella’s chin and a cool burning glare in her eyes._

_“You may take your seats” Rhaella said with a threatening finality as she went back to work on his tunic. Tywin held in a smirk, thinking how pleased Genna would be to hear the whore of Tarbeck was chastened so by the generally kind, Rhaella Targaryen._

_“You will be kind to her” Rhaella hummed in a voice that reminded him somewhat of Aerys; “you will be gentle and giving”_

_“Of course, Princess”_

_“I will be informed if –“_

_“I assure you, your Grace, there will be nothing to inform you of”_

_“Good” the bored drawl of the dornish woman came from behind him, her knack of suddenly appearing as annoying as usual; “keep it that way”_

_They had sent him to his chambers in his small clothes, Rhaella too pious to continue further and Loreza too disgusted by the notion of it. Tywin didn’t care either way, he would rather not display his most valuable of jewels before a room treacherous whores – maybe excluding Rhaella, though her continuous flirtations with Hasty the apparent hypocrite would say otherwise. A swarm of men were still gathered in his bedchambers and the sight made his heart quicken with bloodlust and adrenaline again._

_“Gods Joanna, look at these” Aerys’ voice cooed through the walls of men that Tywin was slowly moving through. No one had enough respect for their future liege lord to cut a path for him, in fact, some of the treacherous bastards – as bad as their whores, only stood defiantly in his way, pretending as though he were not there. Tywin would not suffer such mockery from his future banner men, one day they would learn that Tywin Lannister would not be made a mockery of – not by men._

_“You” Aerys hummed with a reverence that sounded almost like worship, though the sharp cry Joanna gave in reply only made Tywin seethe more – if such a thing were even possible at this stage; “make a man wish to denounce the law against a lord’s right to first night”_

_Tywin could have roared with fury and tore out Aerys’ throat with his own teeth if it had not been for the sudden interruption of his drunk of a brother;_

_“I was wondering where all the festivities went!” Gerion bellowed from atop the shoulders of a delirious Ilyn Payne, who was laughing and hooting like a fool; “come men, the tents are full of whores and the cups are deep with wine!”_

_A cacophony of testosterone driven lust and drunken enthusiasm in the form of a loud roar tore from the throats of most the men in the room and vanquished the hushed hisses and sneers that threatened to push him over the edge of reasoning; the sound was deafening. Gerion always had a way of inspiring such madness in men. Of course his means were always base and carnal but he had more than that; he had charisma, he had the look of a commander but most of all, he had their respect._

_He had won it with love and kindness of course – not in the simpering way their lord sire did, but in a way that was respected and honoured in return. Tywin had once envied his brother for that, though in time he realised ‘love’ is a verb that is too unpredictable to build a steady foundation, for ‘love’ implied weakness, and weakness inspired treachery even in the best of allies and that was not something Tywin was willing to risk._

_No. Respect should be built on the foundation of fear, for fear is unwavering, fear inspires obedience. In time, Tywin would teach his brother that lesson but for now, Gerion had made the horde leave his bedchamber – thankfully just before he exploded, and for that Tywin was glad for whatever means his brother had to accomplish a feat so small yet so alarmingly dangerous._

_“You should be most grateful Tywin” Aerys hissed as he made his way out escorted (rather forcibly) by a tired looking Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; “most grateful indeed”_

_‘You should be most grateful!’ Tywin thought, though he hid it behind a stiff bow; ‘grateful I do not tear off the flaccid worm you call your cock and feed it to you’_

_“There you are Emilio, for Gods sake I thought you were a figment of my imagination you disappeared so quickly”_

_Tywin snapped his attention to Gerion and conversation he was having with – that man, who seemed to be standing rather protectively in front of Joanna, covering her from view_

_“Forgive me Gerion but my wife beckoned me –“_

_“Oh yes” he interrupted, a feigned look of distaste on his face (though Tywin knew well enough that ‘wife’ and ‘distaste’ were in the same category by Gerion’s definition); “one of those. Though forgive me but I must say, yours is rather – enticing”_

_They laughed at that, much to Tywin’s confusion, they laughed?! His own brother, betraying him for some, some –_

_“Thank you Emilio” Joanna weakly expressed, a sound that killed him and made him be born a new, into a vengeful, wrathful man. It wasn’t the words themselves that affected him so nor was it because of who the words were directed to. It was the tone of defeat in her voice, the way her head was bowed, her eyes diverted downwards at a rip up her dishevelled dress and the vacant way they looked as tears spilled over her lashes. They had hurt her, they had hurt his Joanna._

_“I tried my best, my Lady Lannister” the braavosi said rather humbly for someone Tywin presumed was nothing more than a whore mongering sell sword, as he took her hand carefully and bowed over it on one knee._

_He should have kicked him in the face._

_“Forgive me my efforts were not –“_

_“You saved my dress from those savages, that is all I asked for”_

_“Then I pray you a good – consummation?” He asked in the confused manner only a foreigner can have but Joanna only giggled pleasantly at the man’s efforts; “forgive me but where I come from, we do not have ceremonies where we give our newly wed virgin brides to other men to ravage”_

_“Let us pray that someday we do not have it here either” Joanna smiled as she gave him a curtsey more elegant than he deserved._

_“Come Gerion” the braavosi called, reminding Tywin of yet another alliance he wished the man had not made; “let us speak more of this sword of yours”_

As the last three men exited the room, Ilyn closed the door behind him after dropping into a low bow and congratulating the groom with a knowing smirk, leaving just Tywin and his lady wife in the smouldering light of a few lit candles. 

_He had wanted to say a thousand compliments to her in that moment, reassure her that even though her hair was not as perfect as she had first arranged it, and her dress no longer clung to her body in the way she designed it to, she was still by far the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. He had no need though, for she knew, she always knew._

_“I want you to be the one to take it off” she spoke softly, a gentle pleading in her voice; “I want you to make me your wife” Joanna slowly sauntered her way towards him her shoulder peeking out from under the torn fabric with every movement, her tone becoming increasingly alluring with every syllable._

_Tywin had taken her then, taken her with a carnal lust that no maid should ever know but Joanna endured it and in the end she relished in it._

_“On my death bed” she murmured against his chest as she twirled the newly growing hair with the tiny circular strokes of her fingers, the motion calmed him though her words were more than bothersome; “have them bury me in my bridal gown, so the world may know I was always yours.”_

 

He had made it so, in the end Joanna had always got what she wished for but dwelling on such memories only worked against his ambitions.

“I met him only once Lord Osmund” he continued as though his mind had not been lingering in the past for what felt like a lifetime; “though once is quite enough”

“He was a fool!” the man spat venomously, something that prompted Tywin to remember that the Martells were not the only snakes in Dorne; “And his sons are no better!”

“Hence why we are here” he purred a sound that was both soothing and predatory; “my Lord, if I might be so bold?”

“Aye, I’ve had enough of games Lord Lannister. You called this meeting for a reason –“

“I have” he curtly intervened; “I want more and so do you”

“And you have ways of providing both?”

“With your cooperation of course –“

“You have had my cooperation before Lord Lannister, and yet your efforts to dispose of our late Princess Elia were always thwarted –“

“The girl is dead”

“But not by your hand. If your maester had have been discovered –“

“And if the dornish poisons we had received did as they were promised to” Tywin snapped, though his voice only rose to a warning growl it was enough; “we would still not be having this conversation because the girl is dead.”

“And yet a Queen you did not hope for still sits your throne and the ‘King’ of Dorne is now a cripple” his dark eyes looked beady with insidious intentions, the calm scowl of his face was as cold blooded as a snake, though none of this did anything to intimidate Tywin Lannister;

“And therein lies the true depth of our meeting Lord Yronwood, I wish to rid myself of a Queen and her bastard heir and you wish to dispose of a ‘royal’ family –“

“Impossible –“

“No not quite” Tywin said sternly, the seriousness of proposal radiating from the cold look on his face; “but it is difficult”

“I’m listening” Osmund finally submitted after taking a few more gulps of wine

“High Garden has sent a company of a hundred men down the Boneway, an unknown tip provided knowledge of a herding passage that bypassed the Yronwood Castle –“

“Oh, ‘unknown’, of course” he drawled, the sarcasm in his voice more amusing to himself than Tywin as he finished his outburst with a chuckle.

“Quite” Tywin managed through clenched teeth; “If I might continue?” the question was rhetorical but he waited for the inevitable nod of agreement; “My current good-son rides at the head of this company and as you know the heir to High Garden is not a – safe title to claim in Dorne. Should he be encouraged to take certain paths throughout this passage way he could be lost to the desert” he ended suggestively

“You do not wish me to kill him?”

“Why? Let the desert drain the flower, no man needs unnecessary blood on their hands”

“A widowed wife makes no Queen. You think killing the boy will absolve that?” Osmund snorted, his petulance becoming an infuriation that was hard to ignore

“No, but a widowed wife makes a mistress”

“Your fool King fell for his wolf bitch –“

“But love wavers – my lord” ‘you wretched mug’ was what he wished to say, though such outbursts were best left outside of business; “when the seeds of love take no root and leave only despair and resentment to rot in its foundations, a man will sway”

“So it’s true then” the man replied with a knowing smirk as he licked away the remnants of wine from his twisted lips; “rumour said your Queen bled out her first true-born, is it too much to assume a well-dressed rat took the liberty to taint the King’s seed?”

“Surprisingly my lord it is” Tywin hummed intently; “it seems the Gods do not look kindly on wolf whores, even without the assistance of a rat”  
“She naturally –“

“Lost the babe, yes and the King has started to revert back to old habits”

“Whores?” The insipid pig pondered as though such a thing were possible, Tywin would not need to be here if Rhaegar Targaryen was so easily tempted.

“No you fool!” Tywin finally snapped, unable to fathom the patience anymore “His books! His prophecies! He wants more children, that much is certain”

“And you doubt your Queen is able to –“

“I have been informed by the _Grand Maester_ himself that the Queen is most definitely unable to provide said children.”

“I see” the dornish man said with an understanding rise of his chin; “and how exactly does this aid me in usurping my ‘King’?” the word pat with sarcasm

“Why my lord” Tywin said as one would imagine a lion might speak to a lamb being lured into the den; “tell me what you wish for and I shall give it to you.”

“I wish to reclaim my ancestors’ blood right to the throne of Dorne”

“Yes, and”

“I wish to be the first King in a long dynasty of them who bear the name Yronwood”

“And I shall give it to you if –“

“But most of all” the man interrupted though Tywin allowed it this one time for Osmund’s voice had become ominous and dark, the anticipation of what further carnage he hoped for was almost thrilling to the aging lion. Though not enough to awaken him from the relaxation he had found in being completely in control; “I want Oberyn Martell and the wildling whore he disgraced my sister for to suffer the most shameful of deaths”

“Then all you have to do is lead a small company into the desert, Lord Yronwood” Tywin purred, a twisted smile threatening to take over his calm expression; “and I shall do the rest”

“You can guarantee this, Lord Lannister?”

“A Lannister always pays their debts” Tywin answered with a reassuring finality that brokered no further arguments; “Always”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if this chapter is too long. I had re-written it three times and yet I wasn't able to shorten it to the original version I had. Most chapters in the future will never be this long but this chapter in particular had to recount history a lot as Tywin's the only character in this AU that remembers Rhaella, Aerys, Loreza etc. Sorry for the sloppy editing I just want to pump this fiction out of my head so I can go back to just being a reader as quickly as possible :)
> 
> If you managed to read all this, thank you.
> 
> Reviews as always, are appreciated


	16. Arthur II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much just a filler chapter to kind of pave the way for future chapters but hopefully you enjoy it :)

Arthur Dayne - 286 AL The Red Keep

 

“So in the end you have to just think, fuck it” Oswell drunkenly declared, as he came to close one of his sardonic speeches about how the world was a cruel place and how he learned it’s best to just accept it, though the bat knight always said it with the dark sort of humour Arthur most admired about his brother in arms.

“Here, here” Arthur cheered as he took another swig of the unsatisfying yet available Arbor gold that was held to his lips in a once full skin.

Alcohol was his only outlet now, the once attainable vent of women was closed to him for good, a vow he gave by his own will, wholly and truly. Now that the initial pain had subsided and the hysterical bonding phase he experienced with Lady Alannys was over, he could think clearly again and began to put things back into prospective.

His vows were all important now; nothing and no one else mattered anymore. Anyone he had loved was either dead or dying in a war against him. Prince (always ‘Prince’ to Arthur) Lewyn died in combat against the Ser Corbray – a young fool who would have had no chance against Dorne’s former champion had Lewyn not been wounded or twenty years Lyn’s senior.

‘If you had of known the Prince in his former glory’ Arthur would think resentfully as he glared at said knight across the table; ‘you would not be so quick to boast about your victories.’

Corbray had taken Lewyn’s position in the Kingsguard, a slight Arthur’s conscience could not quite forgive. Ser Lyn was a vain, cocky, slip of a boy that Arthur had dreamt of cutting down on more than one occasion. His older brother, Lord Lyonel of Heart’s Home, had hoped that sending his heir to join the Kingsguard would excuse their house of the treason they had committed in slaying his predecessor. Rhaegar accepted such terms; he had no other choice but to, having enough of his own sins to atone for and all. Arthur had not agreed with his King’s decision to induct Corbray into the white cloaks but then that would not be the first or the last time he and Rhaegar had not seen eye to eye, and such circumstances always eventuated with Arthur’s opinion simply being ignored.

‘Drink’ he commanded himself, finding his body more than willing to obey; ‘least you think yourself into madness’

“You look more grim than I, Ser Arthur” the deep voice of Mandon Moore rumbled, most men would never be able to tell that he was intoxicated enough to put a raging bull to sleep but after spending day in and day out with a man you begin to know him better than perhaps you wish to – though Arthur supposes that’s why they use the term sworn ‘brother’. Oswell had only laughed at their brother’s slight slur, encouraging Mandon to drink more so that for once, they might see him without the strict behavioural control Moore constantly had over himself. Ser Mandon Moore was the sacrifice given by Lord Arryn of the Vale, one Arthur found far more pleasing to live with regardless of how lifeless the man usually was.

“No one could be grimmer than you, Ser Mandon, not even the Stranger” Arthur jested with a drunken smirk, though he doubted his words were false; “not even if you drink all the alcohol”

Oswell had chuckled deeply in the haunted kind of way that reminded Arthur of Ser Oswell’s homeland. A place Arthur tried his best to forget; “Then consume with more haste, Sword of the _Mourning_ ” a jape Whent knew would cause a stir in Arthur; “name day or not your watch draws nearer, best use your time as optimally as possible” he finished suggestively as he handed Arthur a wineskin that looked full with – red wine.

“Is that –“

“Dornish red?” the cheeky bastard finished as he quickly withdrew the vessel from Arthur’s reach teasingly; “Why yes it is good ser”

“Where in the heavens did you –“

“Some trader from the Westerlands, caught him trying smuggle it into King’s Landing” he smirked as recounted his ‘duties’, “likewise some of the goods needed to be confiscated for testing –“ he trailed off suggestively, extending the ‘goods’ back out to Arthur without a hint of teasing any further

“Who better to test it than a dornish man” Arthur managed before he drank the entire vessel in a series of large, eager gulps. It was gone all too quickly, he shook the skin profusely hoping to extract every last drop of wine there was, savouring the remnants of its flavour still lingering on his lips and tongue

“Good?” Oswell inquired, though like with everything the knight said it was more of a sarcastic rhetorical jape than a question

‘Good’ could not begin to describe the sensation Arthur felt. It had been well over three years since the last time he stepped foot in Dorne – the longest time by far that he had not returned to his motherland, and it had been an excruciating two years since he last tasted anything remotely dornish, for even though blood oranges grew in the new gardens of the Red Keep, they were not dornish. The red wine he’d just consumed however was as deep as the desert; he could taste the flavour of the beating hot sun in the rich fermentation of the grapes and feel its heat warming him from the inside out like a summer day. Gods it tasted just like – 

“Home” Arthur choked out, holding in the few tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. Oswell patted him on the back murmuring a gruff ‘aye’ as he did so;

“Sometimes the call of the motherland is strong Arthur, but then you go home” a deep frown marred Ser Whent’s face as he looked to be recalling a memory he would rather remember at all; “and you remember why you left in the first place”

Arthur thought to disagree, he even began to compose an argument in his head, but all his rebuttals were found wanting in his own mind. So in the end he did not voice them. Arthur had been so eager to run Rhaegar’s errand, in hopes that returning home would mend some of his heart ache, but if anything it only made it worse.

The rejection, the sense of failure, it was all too much to bear. As he rode out of the Boneway – Dorne at his back forever, a part of him died and left a hole in its wake. Alannys had tried to mend him with her body but it only lasted as long as it took him to forget himself – and her, and find his carnal pleasure. The guilt crept in quickly afterwards followed by an insurmountable amount of regret, everything he had done was all for naught; his vows, his honour, any glory that he might have been bestowed with all mattered for nothing. Arthur had dishonoured a noble born maiden, he had dishonoured himself but most of all he dishonoured Elia’s memory – _**repetitively!**_ It was disgusting to fantasise about her in the throes of passion with some lesser woman, as if he had not already disgraced her enough. He had hoped that confessing to Rhaegar would end this for him, a weak man’s way out of shame but Rhaegar was forgiving (after letting out some of his frustrations on Arthur’s face) and merciful, and he quickly excused Arthur’s actions with petty politics and enough gold to draw men from across the sea. That made it no better in Arthur’s eyes, and yet still here he was, in his white cloak that was invisibly stained with the blood of a maiden girl. 

‘Drink’ he commanded himself again, only realising there was no wineskin in his hand to ‘drink’ from now, when he needed it most

“Ser Arthur?”

‘No Gods not Barristan!’ he pleaded silently.

“Ser Arthur” the insistent calls of the old guard beckoned again, from much closer than the last. Until finally; “Ser Arthur” Barristan sighed resignedly as he came to rest his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur had been trying to hide away but his drunken attempts most likely looked more retarded than evasive

“Barristan” Arthur huffed giving in to the fact that he was most definitely caught; “to what do I owe the pleasure of my favourite sworn brother’s company?”

“Come on Arthur” Barristan almost laughed, obviously unconvinced with his efforts to prolong the inevitable; “our guard begins”

“You heard him boy, off to guard you go” Oswell chortled as he carried Lyn to the privy; the boy couldn’t hold his liquor well so someone had to take him before he threw his stomach, yet another reason why Lewyn was better than the boy.

Arthur grunted his annoyance under his breath and quickly dunked his head in an ice cold pale of water they kept to sober up, it worked wonders if your desired effect is immediate alertness.

“Come then” he said after shaking the remnants of freezing water from his hair; “duty calls” he could hear Oswell laughing away louder at that, though Arthur wasn’t sure whether the ass hole was laughing at him or Corbray; who sounded to be wasting good liquor down the privy as he spoke. Either way Oswell Whent was laughing at someone’s demise, the dark bastard.

“Forgive me Ser Arthur” Barristan suddenly mumbled, though he looked to be growing more confidence with every word, “I petitioned for you to be free of guard on your name day”

“Don’t bother yourself with it Barristan, a name day means nothing to me now” Arthur tried not to slur his words – to no avail, as he had truly meant them. What does a name day matter when you have no one to celebrate it with? It’s just one of the few days in a year he is allowed to get intoxicated, though apparently not enough to not be able to perform his duties as a guard, oh no, Rhaegar had forbade him from drinking at his leisure after their little – disagreement.

 

_He was just about to leave with the command that he was to guard Rhaegar’s usurper Queen as her sworn shield. Arthur was not happy about that decision, he had felt it would insult Elia yet again, but then there was something in Rhaegar’s eyes that told Arthur that the slight to his relationship with his sweet princess was intentional – though he couldn’t blame Rhaegar after what he had said._

_“Arthur” Rhaegar had addressed one last time as Arthur went to make his way out of the study, he had only grunted over his shoulder in response; “you are prohibited from imbibing alcohol on my order, least you demonstrate such behaviour in front of anyone else”_

_“Yes, your Grace” Arthur submitted, too drunk and too tired to fight the inevitable any longer._

_“And Arthur” the warning tone in Rhaegar’s voice suddenly reminding him that his melancholic, gentle King was indeed a dragon underneath it all; “make no assumptions that the kindness I have shown you is due to my lack of concern for some of your more – base feelings” he said after taking sometime to control himself. “If Elia had have lived I would never have let you have her” the territorial edge in his voice brokered no arguments from a lesser knight; “she was mother of my children. That is something I could not share, not even with you.”_

_“Of course, your Grace” he concurred for what was the point in arguing it now, Elia was gone, and there was no reason to fight for her now when he hadn’t fought before._

 

“I miss her too Ser Arthur” Barristan murmured, though as quiet as it was it almost shocked Arthur out of his skin

“I – what – I mean, I don’t know what you mean Barristan” he stammered, flustered by the thought that someone else had recognized his love for a woman that was never his

“Your lady sister Ser” Barristan replied hesitantly, though Arthur was sure his visible breath of relief only confused the old knight more

“Ashara?” he asked though he knew he didn’t need to, Arthur only had one sister that Barristan would know of, and only one that he would speak of so reverently. Selmy had been infatuated with Ashara since her arrival at court, Ashara revelled in his affections of course, though she always maintained a platonic relationship with the man, and she never disrespected him in public or private – though Arthur was sure she and Elia had shared at least one or two giggles about his bewitched sworn brother he could never prove it. She was kind to Barristan in that sense, even if she played on his heart strings a little; “I miss her dearly” he finished truthfully, though his sister was not the woman he had been most haunted by, now and then she plagued him still.

“She was a – lively woman” Barristan faltered, not really knowing what to say after that. Arthur didn’t bother to correct him that his sister was indeed wilful and not ‘lively’ as he so put it. ‘Lively’ implies a cheerful enthusiasm his gloomy sister never truly had – though she hid it beautifully under her façade.

They walked in silence for some time before Barristan seemed to muster enough courage to bid his departures;

“Her Grace had the Prince moved to one of the new turret towers” Selmy explained as he pointed up a winding staircase; “she says he’ll do better in a cooler room”

“Her Grace says a lot of things” he dismissed with a roll of his eyes; Barristan chuckled a little though one would never question his loyalty to his duty and Queen.

Arthur took the staircase across the hallway from the Prince’s tunnel, even now Lyanna refused to be too far away from her son, even if it meant separating herself further from Rhaegar. The miscarriage did nothing but shake the already rocky foundations of his King and Queen’s relationship. Lyanna had become more snappy and abrasive with the intensely more melancholic Rhaegar who seemed distant and vacant – like once before

_”The master says she cannot bear any more children”_

_“Rhaegar” Arthur growled warningly “this is sounding too –“_

_“The dreams have come back Arthur!” He tried to reason with hushed urgency, controlling the volume of his voice but not the content of his words; “They come in a new wave, more vivid than before –“_

_“So what do you think you should do, Rhaegar?” Arthur hummed defiantly, a subtle hint he hoped Rhaegar read as; ‘him not liking where this was going’_

_“I don’t know” Rhaegar admitted in surrender as he ran his hand over his face and through his hair exasperatedly, hoping to find some kind of relief. Judging by his face; he did not._

_“Your dreams are vivid?” Arthur asked, hoping to find some logical answer in the dreams and prophesies that disturb the King he is sworn to so_

_“As if they were reality” Rhaegar murmured distantly, as if he too was trying to reason with himself in the depths of his mind_

_“So what do you see then?”_

_“A boy who looks just like me –“_

_“Aye” Arthur grunted, to acknowledge the fact he had indeed heard this much before_

_“He rides a silver dragon made of swords”_

_“A silver dragon made of swords?” Arthur almost snorted, the disbelief in his voice apparently unappreciated_

_“Are you willing to listen or not?” Rhaegar snapped, this was obviously more serious than Arthur first thought_

_“Forgive me”_

_“As I was saying” Rhaegar continued, though there was a slight glare in his eyes and an edge in his voice; “He rides a silver dragon made of swords. There is a girl that looks like –“he drifted off vacantly, his eyes suddenly looked distant, as if he were staring off into his own world of internal sorrow._

_“My Rhaenys” he eventually choked out, the glimmer of tears appearing in his lash line even now, after so long_

_“And there is another”_

_“A girl?” Arthur puzzled mainly to himself; he was still trying to piece the broken bits of prophecy he had to make some sense_

_“A girl with piercing grey-blue eyes, like the hard ice that makes up the Wall”_

_“And she’s riding a dragon as well?”_

_“I don’t know” Rhaegar growled quietly, sounding more frustrated with himself than anything; “I don’t know”_

_“And that is all you see?” Arthur insisted for he knew it would help if his King got all his burdens off his shoulders, and for some foolish reason Arthur unwilling wished to serve Rhaegar still, regardless of their discrepancies_

_“Throughout the years I have seen more” Rhaegar said, though the sound of frustration in his voice only seemed to deepen_

_“Well out with it then”_

_“Sometimes” he began with a sigh, “I see them fly across a red desert and then the Narrow Sea, making their way to the Wall. I see a pack of wolves, in particular one with red eyes and pure white fur” Rhaegar trailed off in confusion, probably from not being able to make sense of his own thoughts; “there’s a red snake in the snow trying to sneak past the pack. The heat radiating from it threatens to melt the Wall as it slither closer and closer to it. I can see it so clearly that I don’t understand why these wolves cannot” he sighed and rubbed profusely at his temples again; “sometimes I see a lion in the snow, calling someone to challenge but in the end it’s always Jon that answers the call”_

_“So you see Jon in these dreams?”_

_“Yes”_

_“Since?”_

_“Since I found out I had sired another son”_

_“Instead of your desired Princess you mean –“_

_“Do not think to mock me Arthur!” Rhaegar roared, “I will only tolerate so much before I enforce disciplinary actions”_

_“You want my help, don’t you?” Arthur demanded; “Let me help you then”_

_“How is this helping me?”_

_“Forgive me if my tone was uncalled for but there is truth in the statement none the less; you doubt your prophecies. They’re beginning to make no sense –“_

_“You think I don’t realise this?!”_

_“Then your best course of action is to let time take its course, see what happens –“_

_“The dragon has **three** heads Arthur” Rhaegar interrupted darkly, “three” the finality in his voice sent a shiver pulsing down Arthur’s spine. He thought it cruel that while Lyanna was huddled away in her bed, despairing over the destruction of her womb and the loss of another son that she had much desired, Rhaegar was locked up in his study, fretting that the loss of her fertility meant the demise of his unrealistic dreams. Arthur hoped that his disapproval would matter – but then when did it ever?_

 

The Queen’s Tower overlooked the new gardens – a gift Rhaegar had thought would win his Queen’s affections during the early stages of her pregnancy; it had worked until their babe bled from her. The Queens’ Gardens were added to the Keep when repairs started going underway, Lyanna had wanted to be as far away from the smell of decay as possible, with a no view of the lower parts of King’s Landing at all. It was a reasonable enough request, the city was pungent with crime and debauchery, no sight for a lady indeed but Arthur couldn’t help the feeling that she should be made to look, see what damage she had caused from this day until her dying one. His spite was always quick to dissipate with Lyanna though; she was only a girl after all, a wilful, careless girl. 

After reaching the top of a flight of a hundred stairs Arthur knocked raptly on the chamber doors waiting to be called in so that he might announce that he is present to perform his duties – but no call ever came

“Your Grace?” Arthur knocked again; “Your Grace?”

He opened the door to find the woman wasn’t even there! ‘Of course she isn’t’ Arthur hissed to himself, ‘she has to wait until _my_ shift to disappear’

Arthur cursed the Gods and his luck as he made his way back down the stairs, he knew where she was of course but that didn’t mean it was okay for her to just wonder off in the middle of the night. He made his way back out of the alcove leading to the tower, across one of the paved courtyards that managed to survive the wildfire that destroyed most of the original keep, and through the white stone archway to the godswood.

He found her praying, sleeping or crying there often. Sometimes he would let her slumber in her makeshift bed of red leaves and dragon’s breath; Gods know she needed more sleep. When her second son fell from her womb so too did her spirit, Arthur only ever saw flashes of her former self when she played ‘swords’ with sticks she and Jon had found on the forest floor, or sometimes when Rhaegar would let her ride – accompanied of course, as far as they could make it to return back to the keep by nightfall. Other than those slight glimpses inside of her cold defences, Lyanna Stark had shattered with the loss of that babe, and then it deteriorated into almost nothing when she learnt of her condition;

 

_”Arthur” she croaked weakly, her daze of dream wine slowly starting to wear off though her voice remained airy; “Arthur?”_

_“Yes, your Grace”_

_Even in her state she scrunched her face up at his formality, manners and pleasantries really mattered naught to her if your heart was not true. “I knew it would be you” she murmured with a smile; “it’s always you”_

_Arthur had taken her rambling for wine induced confusion so he had only hushed her reassuringly, how he wished he could’ve done for Elia though Rhaegar never left her side after birth till it was safe – looking at the situation Arthur supposed this was more of a death than a birth._

_“I heard you telling me to live when I thought I would perish birthing Jon. I remembered your voice this time, though the Others took my son”_

_“I am your sworn shield” he reminded her; “it is my duty to be there”_

_“It is also a husband’s duty to stand by his wife in her times of need” her voice rasped in argument; “and yet as you can see, mine is nowhere to be found”_

_“The King grieves this loss as much as you Lya” he tried comforting but she only snorted at him indignantly_

_“Your King grieves my womb Arthur. Have you not heard the maester’s triumphant decrees?” She spat angrily, hot tears spilling down her cheeks; “I am barren”_

_“That does not change that you are his wife –“_

_“Doesn’t it?” She shrilled disbelievingly; “Pray tell me then Arthur, where is my husband hmm? Where is your King?”_

_“I know not, your –“_

_“Oh save it Arthur! I don’t want your titles now” she huffed, interrupting him before he could address her as etiquette dictated. “He’s hiding away in his study, hoping to find the answers he so requires in some dusty old tome”_

_“This is the only way he can cope” Arthur sighed with a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head; “he has lost too much –“_

_“He has?” She snapped viciously; “I’ve just lost my unborn child, the only one this damn court saw as trueborn! My womb is barren and my husband no doubt plans to find another –“_

_“Rhaegar would not take another woman” Arthur pronounced, though he was not entirely sure if the statement were true_

_“Wouldn’t he Arthur?” Lyanna almost cried, her voice weak and hoarse with desperation; “Did you know about his prophecies of a ‘prince that was promised’ before you helped him take me?”_

_“If I recall correctly, it was not as though you were unwilling –“_

_“Please just answer the question Arthur?” She begged, tears silently falling from the dark grey storm of her eyes_

_“I did”_

_“Did he tell you that the dragon must –“_

_“Have three heads” Arthur finished with her and unison_

_“So you know then? That his affections towards me were not out of love, it was to get the third head to his dragon!” She hissed furiously, her voice ascending in volume with every word._

_“I would not go so far as to say all of his affections for you –“_

_“Ha! So you see that I am alone in this now?” A question that left Arthur so obviously confused that she elaborated; “ I cannot give him three heads to a dragon so he will place his affections elsewhere in someone he can –“_

_“Even if that were true which I assure you it is not, you are not alone –“_

_“Pray, tell me Arthur” she drawled with a roll of her eyes; “who do I have? My brothers have abandoned me –“_

_“They have not abandoned you –“he tried to rebuke but that only flared her cold fury more_

_“They have!” she shrieked, petulantly beating her tiny clenched fists against the bed beneath her; “Ben has left me for the Wall and Ned will not allow my return”_

_The room fell silent for a while; he knew not what to say._

_“You knew didn’t you? She growled warningly_

_“You will have to be more specif –“_

_“You knew” she began, the sneer in her voice reminding his of a wolf taunting its prey; “all this time you’ve known that I cannot go home because Ned will not let me come home!”_

_“It is not my place to sa –“_

_“I have allowed you privy to some of my most intimate of secrets” She continued, completely ignoring his interruption; “I have told you on numerous occasions that I wished to return home. Why didn’t you tell me Arthur, before I looked like the fool I am now?”_

_She cried sorrowfully into her hands, incoherent mumblings that he thought were pleas for mercy falling from her lips. Arthur felt so sorry for her in this moment, most of the time he worked hard to blame his shortcomings and pain on her. Like a martyr who was too young and innocent to see the pain they were inflicting with their actions, a martyr he could despise with no consequence._

_In this point in time though Arthur thought it best to just take a place on the bed next to her and spread out his arms in a gesture of invitation; “Come” he mumbled._

_Lyanna fell into his arms as though she had been drowning and he was her life line. She cried against his chest, as little and feeble as she was she couldn’t reach his shoulder, even though he was slouching to accommodate to her._

_“I do not think you a fool” he answered, once her crying had dissipated and her breathing was evening out; “I think you are young and naïve”_

_“I am a woman grown now –“she tried to object though Arthur only chuckled_

_“You are in some ways but in many others, not so much”_

_“You lied to me” she accused again after sometime of rethinking her strategy of attack, for the wild she wolf was always on the attack_

_“I did and I didn’t, for that I apologize”_

_“Do you think it’s fair?” she whispered, looking up at him as though pleading him to save her_

_“No” he answered truthfully; “do I think it’s your fault? Yes”_

_“But –“_

_“Your brother is lord paramount of the North now, even though I’m sure he would love more than anything to have you home he must abide by the wants of his people first and foremost”_

_“And they do not want me –“_

_“No they do not Lyanna” his reply harsh but necessary; “some of your brother’s banner men have lost sons in a war for you. You know as well as I that it was their dedication to House Stark and its honour that led northern men to their doom”_

_“I do” she blurted through the tears, her head buried back into his chest in shame_

_“Then you must understand Lord Stark’s decision”_

_“I do” she whispered resignedly, still partially reluctant to see the truth._

_“This does not mean you have lost your brothers” he tried to reassure as he gripped her more tightly, Ashara would have bucked and squirmed out of his hold by now but his Queen found it strangely comforting – his Queen._

_His **Queen** his thoughts snapped, he should not allow himself to get too familiar with another one of his King’s wives, least this treason not be forgiven. Arthur gently tried to move away from her, creating at least some kind of space but Lyanna wouldn’t let him go_

_“Brandon” she murmured as though in a pleasant dream_

_“Forgive me your Grace –“_

_“Right now you remind me of my brother Brandon. Not for the first time”_

_“Really?” Arthur grumbled indignantly, he had no respect for the oldest Stark wolf, not after what his seed did to his sister_

_“Aye, though you do not sound very fond of the idea”_

_“Forgive me your Grace, I was not fond of the man”_

_“How dare you?” A new rage suddenly taking control of her; “you did not even know my brother!”_

_“I know he spilt his seed in my sister and then proceeded to get everyone killed” Arthur snapped indignantly_

_“You – how – still!” she eventually screamed through her stuttering; “My Bran came to save his sister against all odds, there is **great** honour in that! Where is the honour in aiding a prince in abducting a maiden and usurping his King?”_

_“There is none!” He roared angrily, the sound of it obviously frightening the poor girl for she seemed to jump in her skin_

_“Forgive me” she apologized after realising his outburst hurt him more than it did her; “just do not ever speak ill of my brother in my presence, not ever”_

_“Why is it you love him so? Lord Eddard seems loyal to you and honours your position, Lord Benjen is affectionate –“_

_“Not like Bran though” she whimpered; “Bran loved me the most and I him”_

_He thought on her words for a while, indeed Ashara had been closer to Aric, even though Arthur was the one that knew most of her secrets and joined in most of her games, Aric being the oldest brother held her deepest adoration._

_“I would have named him Brandon” she declared with a proud yet sad smile; “I would have named my son Brandon, for the bravest man I ever knew”_

_Arthur let her cry against his chest once more; though this time he made sure not to blur the boundary of formality and treason with the closeness in their embrace._

_“The Gods took them both from me” she said resentfully; “and left me with nothing in their wake”_

_“You have Jon” he chastened curtly, was she so quick to forget the son she still had?_

_“For how long?” she cried helplessly; “Jon grows more aware by the day, how long will it take for him to realise his mother is the wolf bitch; responsible for death and orphans everywhere!”_

_“A child does not think such things of their mother Lyanna” he disagreed whole-heartedly. Actions spoke louder than words and if carrying someone within their body for over nine moons weren’t enough, then the near death experience and sacrificial endurance a mother suffers in birthing their child should be far more than sufficient._

_“Besides” he tried reassuring again, realising his words for now were not enough; “if worse comes to worst, I’ll always be there. I am vowed to defend you always”_

_Arthur had chuckled sardonically at that, thinking ‘a shit load of good that would do you though’, but Lyanna had only whispered her thanks and nestled into him, not inappropriately but reminiscent to that of a pup huddling closer to its pack._

 

Since then they had formed a closer bond, though that didn’t mean the blasted wench could just run off as she pleases, endangering both herself and him in the process. Rhaegar would be hysterical if anything happened to her. Regardless of what his Queen thought in recent days the King loved her very deeply; in a way he never had a far more deserving Princess.

It wasn’t fair of him of to make comparisons that only led to resentment and frustration but Gods it was hard. Elia plagued him still, at night his dreams were filled with her, sometimes happy, sometimes in pain but always in dreams, never a reality. That’s what hurt the most really, waking up finding her gone – but such guilt was cast aside during his guard and the light of day.

‘Ellie would want not want this Arthur. Ellie would wish you peace’ the memory of Prince Oberyn would urge him

‘It is easier said than done’ he growled to himself

Such thoughts easily tainted his will against his duties; ‘you are betraying her still’ the darker voices of his consciousness would sneer at him as he stood guard outside his _Queen’s_ door, ‘standing guard over her usurper’ the voices insistently taunted

‘Ellie would not want this. Ellie would want peace’ Arthur repeated silently to himself, a regular mantra for serenity.

Arthur absentmindedly made his way through the foliage of the Red Keep godswood, the floor was hard grey-brown soil, trampled down firm with red leaves and red dragon’s breath, white roots of weirdwoods twisting in and out of the earth. He hated it here – even if it did have some charms, something about the place disturbed him.

“Arthur?” Lyanna called, sounding unsure of whether her identification was correct.

“What are you doing out here Lyanna?” he fumed as he made his way to the largest tree, a mission he’d found more difficult than it probably truly was; though the forest was a natural labyrinth his confusion was most likely accountable to the lingering effects of wine. 

“Praying”

“Pray in the sept –“

“They are not my Gods”

“Pray to them still” he snapped back angrily; “a woman like you needs the favours of as many Gods as she can get”

“I don’t think they’ll listen” she replied, seeming oblivious to his frustration, “the seven are far less callous than the Old Gods”

“What exactly are you praying for?”

“The death of Cersei Lannister –“

“You mean Lady Tyrell?”

“Please!” Lyanna snorted; “Since her arrival at court and poor Willas’ disappearance she has all but been throwing herself at Rhaegar, as though she were stricken with grief –“

“She is married Lyanna, Rhaegar would not take a married woman –“

“There are rumours Arthur –“

“Rumours like words are wind“

“Not when such rumours are from the spider” she said with a serious edge that was cutting. The spider had managed to survive the fire of the Red Keep, he was one of the three that backed Jaime Lannister’s story about the fire – though he was also the only one Arthur truly believed. There was something in the way Jaime would not meet his eye that caught Arthur’s attention, Jaime had once been enamoured with him he knew, quick to take Arthur’s orders and carry them out thoroughly. Then after the – tragedy, Jaime seemed to try and distance himself, like he had something to hide? But then being an unwilling participant of such devastation was more scarring than Arthur wished to imagine, so he pushed his doubts further into the recesses of his mind.

“And what did the spider find in his web?” He drawled sarcastically, he was a wicked man, Lord Varys, though perhaps not quite as sinister as the Grand Maester he opposed.

“Tywin wishes his daughter to be widowed –“

“Why would a man want such a –“

“To push her onto Rhaegar!” she announced with an exasperated fling of her arms; “Can’t you see Arthur? The bitch is trying to usurp me –“

“No one is going to usurp you” he tried to reassure, though his words looked lost on Lyanna as she began pacing about the tree

“They say my Jon is a bastard” she murmured, though her pain echoed in the hollows of the small, enclosed forest; “but you were there Arthur, you know”

“I was, though they argue you did not wed the right way –“

“And what is the right way hmm?” She snapped as she stumbled over a root, Arthur rushed to catch her though there was no need; “We wed under the eyes of all Gods, with you and Oswell there to bear witness to our vows”

“Yet that is not enough –“

“I tried hard enough” she growled furiously; “With where I was – and what I had – I tried more than hard enough”

“The King decrees that Jon is his rightful heir” Arthur tried taking a new path, one that was more firm in his favour than before; “he would not disinherit him”

“And if he gets children on the Lannister whore? “

“He will not Lyanna” Arthur chastened with finality; “Rhaegar will drive himself into madness before he makes such a foolish decision, I assure you” He knew that much was true, regardless of how much the Lord Lion waved his daughter as bait before the dragon, the King would not take it. If Rhaegar was to take any woman he would take one he could envision mothering his children. A golden lioness with penetrating green eyes did not fit the description of any of the children Rhaegar foresaw.

Lyanna looked to finally agree with him as she slowly struggled to retrieve a wineskin from in between the roots of the twisted weirwood she had been circling around – she was drunk he suddenly realised

“Fuck it all to hell!” he bellowed, not particularly caring whether or not someone heard him, though he highly doubted that would be so; “Of course you’re drunk on _my_ watch!”

“I am not drunk” she tried to argue, though falling over a dead branch did nothing in her favour. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at her; she was a silly girl, so much like Ashara. He thought perhaps in another lifetime they would have gotten along, Ashara and this wolf _Queen_ , though it never would’ve happened in this one. Ashara was far too loyal to Elia to do anything but despise Lyanna – regardless of whether or not Elia herself encouraged such behaviour.

“Get up!” he demanded as he pulled her from the ground, though she made it more difficult by laughing and carrying on. Lyanna smirked wickedly as she offered the wineskin to him, the droplets of red on the rim of the neck suddenly more enticing than reason

“Oswell?” he gasped after taking a large gulp from it

“That sly bastard told me he only ‘confiscated’ two skins” she cursed, though there was no real malicious intent in her words. They laughed at that, forgetting for a few moments that she was his Queen and he, her guard, and this was definitely no way to be behaving, but he ignored that and took up a seat next to her

“It is my name day you know?” he chided as she tried to take the skin from him

“I know, that’s why I bought this and these –“she trailed off reaching for a burlap bag with four blood oranges; “they’re are from Dorne as well”

“You lie” he accused, though he quickly took one in his hand to thoroughly examine it

“I would never” she chimed, the smirk on her face widening; “apparently the merchant from the Westerlands travels with great haste, fast enough for his cargo of dornish blood oranges to not spoil”

Arthur hadn’t even waited until Lyanna had finished her explanation, he would see for himself the authenticity of the orange. Arthur tore through its skin with a well-practiced precision one acquires spending years in a garden. As he bit into the flesh any doubt he had drowned in the sweet juices bursting from the fruit.

“Calm down” Lyanna teased; “you make a beast of yourself”

“I care not” he admitted as he continued to devour the ripe blood orange and slurp at its juice; “first dornish wine, and now dornish fruit” he listed happily, feeling like a child in the Water Gardens again as he wiped the sticky remnants from his face with the back of his hand and reached for another

“Are you going to share?”

“No” he scoffed; “you think you can wave the fruits of sin before me and think I will not take all of them?” 

“No, I suppose not” Lyanna laughed, though it quickly turned into sadness; “I understand what it means to miss home”

Arthur stopped concentrating all his efforts on the fruit in his hand to contemplate where the conversation was heading. He didn’t want to have another heated debate with her about why her ‘exile’ was self-imposed and how it was better just to accept it.

“Thank you” he says instead of all the harsh things he could think; “you’ve made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time”

Lyanna didn’t look shocked – as shocked he felt he did anyway, from his involuntary words. In fact she only blushed a little and then dropped eye contact. The words were true enough, he hadn’t been happy for a very long time, though the way he was feeling now was nothing compared to the bliss Arthur had had once upon a time in Dorne

“I’m glad for it” she hesitated with a slight smile, one that was small and yet spoke of true happiness, “I need to know I don’t only inspire misery and death”

‘Oh you do’ Arthur thought harshly, remembering the Prince he had once looked up to, the sister he had once played with and the Princess he had once lived for but he would never voice such hurtful things allowed.

‘Ellie would not want this. Ellie would want peace’ he internally repeated

“I know what it’s like to feel like you have no one” he started to comfort, though Arthur didn’t know exactly where he was going with this; “it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Everyone’s quick to attack you and yet there’s no one to come to your defence”

“Aye” Lyanna whispered faintly as she slouched against the tree in defeat

“You just have to remember that home is where the heart is” he encouraged, nudging her into one of the small spars they have often; “and your heart is with Jon is it not”

“It is”

“And Rhaegar?” he pushed hesitantly

“Sometimes” she huffed; her love for her lord husband was always quick to return regardless of what he’s done to push it away in the first place – though the same can be said vice versa.

“So you have a home” he announced dramatically with arm gestures that had the _Queen_ hiding giggles to herself again

“Aye” she agreed, though she punctuated it with a punch to his torso that had him winded. Arthur cursed himself for not having a wicked foresight and deciding not to wear his armour; “so by that logic you have a home too”

“What?” Arthur puzzled, wondering how that got to this sudden turn in events

“Here” she announced, mimicking his ridiculous hand gestures; “with Oswell and Barristan, Jon and Rhaegar. And me of course” she added with another punch that was anticipated and caught, putting the Queen in the most vulnerable position to be tickled

“Stop” she gasped as he laughed at her torment; “stop it you wicked man!” Lyanna swatted and kicked at him with every ounce of strength she had, she hated being tickled apparently she was too sensitive

“I suppose I have a home here amongst the wreckage” he murmured after relenting in his onslaught of torcher, “though the company is rather lacking.” They play fought for a while before Arthur managed to convince Lyanna back to her tower;

“Ironic isn’t it?” she said over her shoulder as they ascended up the stairs, “That I should be locked away in yet another tower and you should be the one guarding it”

‘Cruel’ he corrects to himself; ‘that you should be kept safely away in a tower and I should be made to watch guard over it’ but thinking such things only hindered his progression forward so Arthur forced them aside, as usual, hoping that sooner – rather than later, he would not come to think of them at all.

‘Ellie would not want this. Ellie would wish you peace’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always all credit to George Martin.  
> This is just some crazy self indulgent alternative universe that thankfully never happened :)


	17. Oberyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter goes a little crazy and has a impossible pairing that I decided to do cause I loved the potential of their relationship. You'll figure out who not long into the chapter, please be patient if you find yourself confused, in time I will explain as I go along.
> 
> Comments, opinions and reviews appreciated, sorry if it's a bit long. Tried to shorten it but just lost patience :/ hope someone enjoys my madness?

Oberyn Nymeros Martell – 286 AL, the Water Gardens, Dorne.

 

The Water Gardens were alive with laughter and glee for the ninth name day celebration of his chubby little niece Arianne, something he was certain was lacking in this place since the dragon took his sister and then ran off with a wolf bitch – though one could argue he had hardly stepped foot here since then.

Oberyn spent his days defending Dorne from the north while ensuring trade and men made it safely to and from the east. It was more of a feat than he was sure Doran assumed, Stannis Baratheon was a plague to him at sea whilst the fat Tyrell flower sent company after company through the Boneway – no matter how many Oberyn decorated the passage way with afterwards. They were both relentless in their attempts – but then that was all they were, attempts.

The red viper had more cunning than that after all; no viper is seen until it is too late. Doran had been less than agreeable – to say the least, about a few of his choices in the past but he had come to see that Oberyn had right of it, for it was, was it not?

 

_  
“Slaves Oberyn?” Doran roared at him indignantly, slamming his fists against the huge marble desk. Oberyn could almost find humour in the fact that Doran’s outburst on the table seemed to have little effect as his attempts to display aggression in the physical sense only amounted to a weak ‘thud’ that one had to strain to hear, but Oberyn kept his laughter to himself for though Doran had little strength in his body, he had plenty in his mind. His brother, though no one would know it, was a force to be reckoned with._

_“I cannot say that I understand what exactly you are ranting on about brother?” Oberyn managed sarcasm, of all things, now at a time like this. He knew as soon as the words left his tongue that they were not appreciated, the harsh glare in Doran’s blue-black eyes burnt away any doubt in his mind._

_“I mean the ghiscari speaking imbeciles who claim they have been sent here to build my city!”_

_“Ah!” Oberyn nodded as though he was in understanding, though his facetious nature always dwelled beneath his feigned expression of courtesy; “I see where the misunderstanding lays now brother –”_

_“Oh, you do, do you?” Doran mocked back – obviously aware of his brother’s ever present cynicism, as he sat back in his cold marble throne looking as embarrassed by his physical capabilities as Oberyn felt for him._

_“You said slaves, but slaves they are not –“_

_“Oh they’re not slaves, I see now. Pray brother, tell me how it is that they are not slaves when each of them has been visibly marked?” The menacing hiss in his brother’s voice raising in volume and accusation with every word he sarcastically spat_

_“Well I freed them of course –”_

_“Freed!?” Doran suddenly roared again, though this time he chose to demonstrate his frustration by throwing candelabra across the room, but his anger quickly turned into panic as his eyes assessed the damage of his fit._

_“Aye brother, freed” Oberyn started trying to explain, taking Doran’s lack of complete attention as an opportunity to try and squirm his way out of this; “you see once you buy a slave you are entitled to free them, if you see fit”_

_“And whose gold did you use to buy them Oberyn?” Doran suddenly snapped, confirming that Oberyn’s small window of opportunity was now indeed closed, if it ever existed in the first place._

_“Well – my gold” he stammered, something Oberyn Martell only ever did with his two older siblings or the women he loved; “the gold I’ve been paid to protect this –“_

_“And who is it that governs whom is entitled to enter this realm Oberyn!?” Doran’s ire suddenly exploding into a loud roar fit for the Sevens’ father._

_“Well technically, you have given me right of allowing passage to and from –“_

_“Enough with your intricate technicalities, Oberyn! You will not slither out of this one” Doran rose from his desk in a visibly painful movement, his feet had developed the gout since the uprising, and though he pushed his limits to move with a haste that defied his physical abilities, Doran was stubborn enough – and angry enough, to accept such pain._

_“Give me one good reason why I should not banish you to the Wall for this, brother? For damning me so in the eyes of men and Gods –“_

_“You stop right there, Doran Nymeros Martell” Oberyn hissed with an edge that was much too threatening to direct at one’s liege lord brother; “everything I have done, I did so because you asked it of me –“_

_“Pray tell me how you came to such a conclusion as this then Oberyn!? What orders have I –“_

_“You told me you needed men to build this new city of yours, brother” he interrupted before Doran could have the gall to finish that question; “you told me the people were not easily willing to give themselves up to such manual labour and then you told me the Yronwoods needed men to aid in defending their gates when the treacherous bastards cannot keep their own”_

_“They suffer the most damage from this rebellion –“_

_“I don’t really give a fuck Doran” Oberyn snapped, no longer caring for his brother’s wrath for the Viper had fangs of his own; “you tell me all of this and then you ask me to find a solution! Well I found it for you, brother!”_

_“And your solution to such issues is slavery?” Doran’s hysteria was suddenly dominated by defeat, a feeling Oberyn hated seeing in his oldest brother, for defeated, he should never be._

_“There are no slaves in Dorne, brother, only freemen” Oberyn says far more calmly than his brother had obviously expected but Doran looked at him differently now, as though willing to understand._

_“Wait one moment” Oberyn said in an excited rush, suddenly realising that now was the opportunity to **show** Doran. He ran quickly to the secret bookcase that opened to reveal a hidden set of shelves, one he had been using as of late – surprisingly his brother seemed unaware._

_‘Good’ he smirked to himself, ‘at least I know you’re still human enough to surprise from time to time’_

_Oberyn quickly gathered the bundles of scrolls that had travelled across the sea with the men, women and children searching for freedom. Each rolled up parchment meticulously listed the details and evaluations of every person allowed citizenship in Dorne._

_“And what are these?” Doran inquired with an arched brow_

_“Read them and see”_

_Doran looked reluctant at first but as Oberyn watched his eyes scan the scroll he saw the realisation dawning in them; “These are the tests?” he asked sounding suddenly bewildered, and yet hopeful._

_“Aye –“_

_“And you have had help it seems” Doran added as he ran his fingers along the elegant flourishes of script_

_“Indeed, Alyse Ladybright ran over the numbers –“_

_“I was not speaking of our treasurer, brother” Doran murmured softly, the faintest smile of affection pulling at the corners of his mouth as his brother continued to read over the last and most – intimate of parchments; “but then you know that”_

_“Send me to Essos, brother. Can’t you see? The answer to all that plagues you –“_

_“No” his brother said with a firm finality that should have halted Oberyn in his pleas – should have._

_“But all that we seek is in Essos, brother; your scrolls, your maps, your men, everything! I could retrieve them for you –“_

_“No, Oberyn” Doran sighed with a shrug of nonchalance; “what you want is in Essos”_

_“What I want?”Oberyn’s voice and hysteria reaching the stark contrast of his brother; “Is it not what you want too, brother? Your resources and your family brought back to you as one –“_

_“Now is not the time Oberyn –“_

_“Then when?” Oberyn pleaded for what was probably the thousandth time. Did Doran not want happiness for his own family and self? Did he only wish to bestow happiness onto his ‘people’? Perhaps Oberyn was the selfish one but he could not for the life of him see why._

_‘Can you not see that I want happiness for you, as much as I, brother’ Oberyn thought sadly to himself, how misunderstood he always was; ‘can you not see that for me, your happiness is my happiness. I wish this for us both’_

_“Have patience, brother” an answer he had heard a thousand times more, one that both broke him and enraged him at once, “in time, we too can have our happiness. For now, our duty is to bestow it to our people”_

_“Ours you say” Oberyn snorted indignantly, that was the first time he had heard that one_

_“Aye, brother” Doran said with a purr that was far more intimidating than any bellow or roar he had emitted before, as now, it seemed his brother had a plan_

_‘I hate it when he has a plan’ Oberyn thought bitterly, knowing Doran’s plan often required him to be responsible for something_

_“It was you, after all, that allowed ‘freed men’ access to my realm. You who are responsible for them”_

_He really should have seen that coming ‘Fuck’ he spat at himself, ‘the demands are endless’_

_“And volunteering yourself for overseeing the new immigration laws was just so noble of you, brother”_

_But **that** , was beyond even his dark imaginings._

_“You cannot be serious Doran –“_

_“Oh I am deadly serious, **Oberyn Nymeros Martell** ” his name said with a chilling emphasis that sent a shiver down his spine; “you started this, now finish it”_

_“What do you mean finish –“_

_“I mean **here** ” he said taking one of the scrolls and jabbing at a line of text; “read it out loud”_

_Oberyn frowned, never the one to enjoy being commanded so but as always he did as he was bid – albeit not without giving some attitude_

_“Name of person declaring citizenship” he drawled; “Drogo of the Dothraki Sea”_

_“So what language does he speak?”_

_“Well –“he hesitated, realising now where Doran was going with this; “Dothraki” Oberyn submitted_

_“How am I to govern a man who cannot understand me, brother?”_

_“He’s hardly a man” Oberyn argued, reading over the rest of the dothraki’s statistics; “he’s not yet even ten and six –“_

_“In Essos” Doran drawled in a stone solemn tone he had not been expecting, “a boy of ten and six can swiftly be turned in to a hardened man. Those who are forced into slavery experience maturity even faster still. Ask Areo Hotah, if you do not believe me”_

_“So you expect me to see over every single –“_

_“Yes” Doran said firmly, strange that his ‘yes’s and ‘no’s sounded exactly the same and yet meant the exact opposite to each other; “and I expect more”_

_“More?” Oberyn asked incredulously, sceptical at this point that there could possibly be any more._

_“You are to assess every man that arrives here through Planky Town, on both a physical and mental level”_

_“Me? – Myself? – Personally?” Oberyn stammered, shocked that his ploys had all been manipulated so against his favour. He wanted less responsibility and duty; not more!_

_“Aye, I want the young and the orphaned taken to either Sunspear or the Water Gardens to begin their education –“_

_“Education?” He bellowed in disbelief, “Doran for what purpose could it possibly serve –“_

_“Every purpose Oberyn” Doran answered before Oberyn even had the chance to finish his question; “You said so yourself, he cannot understand me, he cannot understand Dorne or its people –“_

_“So what, brother? He’s excellent on horseback and built like the Wall” according to the data in his hand anyhow, Oberyn had never met the boy to have any real say himself_

_“So what do you propose then, that we take these people from slavery only to enlist them into one of a kinder nature?”_

_He hadn’t thought about it that way but that was what Doran was for, seeing things they could not. “No” he relented, knowing that in just that one syllable he had all but locked the chains that confined him himself._

_“Then you understand?”_

_“I do” he admitted, for what good was the point in denying a duty you took upon yourself._

_“Thank you” Doran hummed with appreciation_

_“What of the women and children?” Oberyn suddenly asked, his concern for the people he had brought here stronger than he willed it to be. He cursed his brother for such emotional follies; it was him after all who made Oberyn open to such sensitivity_

_‘Bastard’ Oberyn hissed to himself, though such a hiss was often a sign of affection from a snake, as was the case now; ‘use my own devices against me why don’t you’_

_“Lady Alyse will see to the women, have them established into dornish society under the trade that best suits the individual. Perhaps in time, educational and financial support can be provided for them also. I will oversee the children myself”_

_“And how is it you expect to educate all these people Doran, last I checked we had only two maesters? There are over two thousand here alone –“_

_“I’ve been thinking for a long time, brother” Doran interjected, a far off look in his eyes and a slight smile on his lip, “I would like to build a place of learning, something like the Citadel, and not just one I want at least three”_

_“For whom exactly, brother?”_

_“Why” Doran smiled then, widely and truly; “for the children of course”_

_“You cannot favour the children born in Essos over those of our own –“_

_“And I do not seek to brother, hear me now and hear me well” Doran declared rising to his feet as though he were the King addressing the court and not a brother simply speaking to his brother; “from this day forward I shall have it be known that every child living within my borders is entitled to equal opportunity for further enlightenment, for all beasts are equal in the eyes of the sun” Doran looked at him for the first time in years with real hope, hope that all this overreaching madness was any more than an early grave –_

_“I understand now brother” Doran whispered in a quiet reverence, “don’t you?”_

_Oberyn’s confusion must have been plain on his face for Doran simply looked at him with an understanding smile, something that was so similar to their sweet sister._

_“Look to tomorrow and know I saw it with you”_

_“You’re sounding like mother again” Oberyn sang in the teasing way that only a little brother could, but Doran only grinned even brighter still_

_“I hope so” he muttered if only to himself before turning his attentions back to his desk amassed with scrolls, and papers of variant lengths and content, giving one last solemn order; “bring me Mordecai of Myr”_

_“Yes, your Grace” Oberyn mockingly bowed with a roll of his eyes, the Old Man’s objectives had still been questionable in Oberyn’s eyes but as suspicious and wary as he was of the man’s – acquired capabilities he trusted Doran’s judgement above all else_

 

That had been over two years ago now and much had developed since, the Old man had left them to their own devices and vanished as mysteriously as he came, Doran’s city was no longer just intricate diagrams drafted out on paper, it was a reality now in stone – at least for the most part. Monoliths had been carved from the mountains, killing two birds with one stone in the process as rubble and debris fell in a landslide to all but block the entry through the Prince’s Pass. The Old Man’s fire-powder made the feat far too easy than the Gods should have allowed

‘To think a man could crumble mountains with but a spark is – ungodly’ he self-concluded, ‘good thing I keep no Gods then’

Dorne had suffered not from it, in fact, Dorne had thrived. With men willing to work and serve for the minimal but not questionable – in fact Oberyn thought a home, your freedom and some well-earned gold in your purse was more than enough for men born to slavery but then Doran was ever generous ever gracious –

Their lords had liked it not;

 

_”You give more to your slaves than you do to your own, your Grace” Osmund Yronwood spat; a few of his banner-men agreeing loud in ignorant ‘aye’s, Oberyn had wished to take their tongues out for it_

_“I assure you my Lord” Doran drawled politely yet ever so sternly, “I have in fact offered the same benefits to every dornish man who seeks it”_

_“Aye” Oberyn snapped, making it very clear to all who might doubt Doran’s ambitions also doubt his own, “Is your niece not enrolled in the learning-nest for small children in Sunspear?”_

_“I believe that is so my lord” he admitted, perhaps one of the first truths the worm had said in all his miserable existence_

_“Then you, yourself know that equal privileges have been made available to all citizens within my brother’s realm, correct?”_

_“That is not the matter I was addressing, my prince” Osmund managed through tightly clenched teeth, Oberyn could almost snort at him_

_“Then pray my lord tell me” Doran interjected, probably detecting the rising fury in his brother, “what is it you ask for that would amend your grievances?”_

_“Your Grace asks too much in taxes, my lands have been pillaged and attacked since you sent us into war for the mad dragon –“_

_“Well perhaps if you defended your lands this would not be so Lord Osmund, you cannot rape the willing –“_

_“That is enough, Oberyn” Doran huffed with a silencing raise of his hand, “have I not sent over five hundred able men to both replenish your defences and repair damages”_

_“They have since died my lord –“_

_“Sent to their peril, no doubt” Oberyn hissed a little too loudly under his breath for his brother was glaring holes into his skull again_

_“Was the gold I sent with them not enough to sate your needs, my lord” an edge on his voice that had the Yronwood shifting on his feet_

_“They were more costly than what was –“_

_“Oh go to hells Yronwood” Franklyn Fowler bellowed, “our King has given you more than your fair share, your greed is poisonous”_

_“Aye” Oberyn agreed with the outburst, relieved that someone else amongst them still had their senses, though his voice was suddenly echoed by the support of others_

_“Lord Fowler and I have defended the Prince’s Pass as long as you have had to keep the Boneway, though I do believe Lord Wyl has in fact lost the most men in keeping the passage –“ Lady Larra Blackmont contested, trailing off suggestively as though hinting for backing_

_“Aye” Oberyn confirmed, “Lord Wyl is not here today because of his losses”_

_“And yet he asks nothing of our lord King?” The calculated knowing in the woman’s eyes reminded Oberyn why he so loved having women sit in small council_

_“I believe not” Doran answered, his face so still that one might not have recognised the triumphant twitch in his lips; “in fact, Lord Wyl wrote to say he is most pleased with the soldiers and coin I’ve sent him. He says the men are the best soldiers he’s ever had to command”_

_Oberyn couldn’t help the way he puffed his chest up proudly, he had been the one to oversee the training of each man before they were sent to be commanded by their new dornish lord. Each one tested with the end of his spear to demonstrate their worth to him, to Doran, to Dorne. Oberyn had been more than pleased with the results he’d had thus far, the fact Yronwood said otherwise was a slight to his teachings. Oberyn wasn’t one to allow slights against him in any form and Osmund pushed his patience;_

_‘Tread carefully Yronwood’ Oberyn thought threateningly; ‘least you die by your own poison like your predecessor’. Everyone had heard of how he’d duelled Edgar Yronwood after the ungrateful fool had found Oberyn abed with his paramour at the ripe age of ten and six. Few however knew that during their duel Oberyn had managed to unarm Edgar and drew blood only once from the man, with his own sword. Yronwood had flown into a crazed flurry after that, trying to stab at him with the spear Oberyn had discarded in favour of Yronwood’s sword. In hindsight, Oberyn realised it was just feeble attempt to try and kill him by the spear when poison was no longer an option – in the end it mattered not, Edgar’s wound festered and by the next sunrise he was dead._

_‘That’s just what happens when you try to poison a viper’ Oberyn snorted with no remorse._

_“Ulrick is not here today because he suffers the loss of his oldest son and heir! He does not complain simply because he is sworn to Sunspear –“_

_“And you imply that you are not?” Oberyn’s voice lowered to a quiet growl as he glared challengingly at the potential usurper_

_“I am implying, my prince” the title said with enough disdain to be treason; “that Lord Wyl simply fears speaking out –“_

_“Why would he?” Aric Dayne barked, looking more annoyed than he’s seen the man in years – and that was a feat if you had known Aric as much as him; “you come to council today and speak out against your King and prince with such arrogance, no fear of the consequences of your words –“_

_“And should I fear for my words, your Grace? Should I not be entitled to convey the concerns of the people whom I am meant to govern?” Yronwood once again found support in the voice of a few of his banner-men, though this time Oberyn noticed more were listening to him; “You have all but taken my position away as Warden of the Stone Way, the more freedom you give to the smaller folk the more control you take from the lords who are meant to govern them”_

_“He speaks it true” Lord Trebor Jordayne concurred, something that visibly shocked Doran and his supporters for the Lord of Tor generally held firm in favour of his King, “Your Grace, if I may speak freely?”_

_‘Well at least he has not lost all his sense’ Oberyn thought viciously as the man bowed lowly before his brother_

_“Please, my lord”_

_“Our King is most gracious and kind, it is almost unheard of to have a King as generous as ours” Trebor started with soothing words, a tactic to lessen the blow of what was still to come; “but I believe he may be too generous –”_

_“Speak plainly Lord Jordayne” the old voice of Lord Gargalen grumbled; “we have no time for your pretty words, boy”_

_“Forgive me my lord” he stammered with embarrassment for Tremond Gargalen almost commanded as much respect in the eyes of dornish lords as his brother did, “the feudal system that has governed our people for hundreds of years is founded on the principle that not **all** men are born equal” he blurted as though he was ashamed of his own words, and so he should be; “the democracy you promote my King” Trebor sighed with a shake of his head, “while I see the potential for it in the distant future, I see civil war closer on the horizon”_

_The silence that followed was deafening. Oberyn could literally hear the cogs turning in every lord and lady’s head in that room; slowly but surely more and more dark accusations were pointed at his brother in the cold glares of men unwilling to lose their power. It had been the first time in his life that Oberyn Martell truly felt as though he were not a viper in the pit of snakes, but a mouse._

 

“Uncle Obie?” the raspy little voice of his niece beckoned him back to reality, “There you are! Tyene, I found him!” she bellowed in no direction in particular, no doubt knowing that her cousin wasn’t trailing too far behind to hear. He smiled at that, for the first time in the months since he’d been posted in Planky Town, Oberyn truly smiled.

It was good to be home again, here with his family, guarding over _them_ as he was sure _he_ was meant to – though there was still a piece missing. Oberyn had little time to contemplate his constant torment however, as the third oldest of his children appeared with a look of annoyance in the arch of her golden brow

“Lord Father” she addressed in a way that was meant to be hurtful, his pious little snake knew more treachery than innocence – though one could never tell by her fair angelic face, it was what inspired the fatherly love in his heart to brew; “Mother says for a man that hardly ever returns you’ve spent more than enough time in isolation” the tone of her voice indifferent and her words said curt and matter-of-factly but Oberyn knew it was to disguise the pain, oh for true, how this child was so like him; “and quite frankly, I agree”

“Aye Uncle” Arianne piped up, not ever the one to leave her say unsaid; “one would think you enjoy the company of sweaty dothraki boys more than that of the beauties that bless your life” she feigned a pout though it was quick to make way for a smirk; “though I can’t say I blame you” she added in a whisper which bubbled into a giggle that only died upon seeing the sharp look in her cousins eyes.

“Um yes – well” she stammered obviously bewildered by the lack of support her words had encouraged; “come now Uncle, you’ve hardly joined in my name-day celebrations at all. This is a joint festivity you know” covering her mouth with her hand as though to share a secret with him she added; “Tyene already turned nine three moons ago and Sarella turns eight in two”

Oberyn knew of course, they were his daughters after all, he had begun to study all there was to know about them the first day he set eyes upon each one.

‘This one is like me’ he remembered saying as Obara picked up the spear he had thrown at her feet. The girl had to be taken from her fool mother for her own safety, bragging about how the Viper Prince of Dorne got a bastard on you did no favour to anyone above the marches once the uprising began.

 

_“You can cry for your mother girl or you can pick it up and fight instead” He had told her coldly as she wept on the sand at his feet; “your mother’s tears or my spear?”_

_‘This one is like me’ he’d told himself as he watched the resolve burn in her dark eyes, so like his._

_“The spear” she said with a dismissive grunt that was all too familiar as well; “I choose the spear”_

_‘Of course you do’ he thought more affectionately then, taking note of the strong widow’s peak that was prominent in all Martells; ‘you are mine’_

_It had been the same when Tyene arrived not long before the destruction of the Prince’s Pass, her mother – a septa in the Reach, had sent their daughter (reluctantly) to the safety of Dorne where, she would be raised as a princess_

_“My mother was a healer of the Faith” she told him as though he didn’t already know; “and they say you are the Stranger of the Seven” the arch in her brow had him almost chuckling to himself, despite her fair skin, golden tresses and pale blue eyes, she reminded him so much of his lady mother_

_“So what does that make you?” he teased, for he simply could not help himself._

_“Depends” she said with an uninterested shrug, “on how I feel at the time”_

_‘This one is like me’ he smiled then, ‘she is mine’_

_He had called for Sarella himself, her mother was to dock in Planky Town with a shipment of spices for the markets. Sakara had known for long enough of Oberyn’s intentions of claiming all of his children, even those who are in no immediate danger_

_“Sarella is fine enough here; she is fed, clothed, educated” his dark skinned ‘pirate Queen’ raged, for all the mothers of his children were Queens to him in some way – although he was never cruel enough to tell Obara that her mother had been his ‘whore Queen’. Sakara’s fury was quick to remind Oberyn of her passion – though now was not a time to think on such things he supposed, especially with his spear-wife waiting for them back on shore._

_“Sarella my love” she called affectionately, forgetting her anger for only a moment to sound loving enough to her child. Oberyn almost felt guilty for it, but then when it came to having his family, Oberyn had always been selfish in the end_

_“Yes mother” the little girl drawled in an accent that was too southern to be dornish and yet it still held his facetious and sarcastic tones._

_‘This one is like me’ he repeated to himself almost like a mantra now_

_“Demonstrate to – the Prince” she stumbled not really knowing what to address him as at this stage; “how well you can read child”_

_“The Prince, mother?” she snorted, folding her arms over her chest in the indignant manner Oberyn had so often used when his intelligence was being mocked; “Really?”_

_She had the widow’s peak, the same angles in her face, the same lithe build, the same attitude –_

_“You have come to claim me as your bastard daughter have you not, lord father?” she asked sweetly, though a snake never loses their hiss_

_“That is enough –“ Sakara tried to chastise but Oberyn silenced her with a raise of his hand_

_“I have” he answered, noting that she changed her defensive stance ever so slightly._

_‘This one likes to be treated as an equal, not a child’_

_“Then I wish to make a deal with you?”_

_“A deal?” he laughed; this one was much like him indeed_

_“Aye” she snapped obviously not thrilled by his amusement; “I propose that you allow me the freedom to see – my mama” her voice breaking only just but enough to punish Oberyn for his intrusion; “at least every other year” she finished, looking at her mother who was on the brink of tears and then back at him as though this was his fault, and it was, Gods it was but he loved her so much already, he had to make sure she was safe_

_“You have my word” he said with a slight bow before running his hand across the tightly bound braids of black dense hair_

_‘She is mine’ he told himself with more joy than he had been expecting_

_Nymeria – though no one would ever understand, was the first of his children to stir doubt in Oberyn. Of for sure Nymeria looked more like him than Obara, Tyene and Sarella ever could. The blind would even argue that she was the only one who looked like their father but Nymeria was nothing like him, in fact she was so his polar opposite that Oberyn would have believed it more if someone told him Doran had sired a daughter on his volantene bed-mate rather than him fathering a daughter of such virtue._

_Nymeria was proper in every way western etiquette dictated; she was poised, graceful, elegant and spoke not one single curse or bad word in his hearing, she was so well-mannered in fact that all the other children in the Water Gardens had taken to calling her ‘Lady Nym’._

_Oberyn had mentioned it to no one but Doran who only snorted at him and suggested ‘Perhaps you should see how she plays with the other girls’_

_And that had been the first time he had seen himself in her, Oberyn had been spying on her – as he was damned well entitled to regardless of what Doran said! As she played with the Fowler twins, or rather watched them as they fought for her affections;_

_“Our lady never seems happy, sister” one sister pouted to the other, whether it was Jeyne or Jennelyn, Oberyn couldn’t tell._

_“Pray tell us my lady” the other began pleading to his daughter though Nymeria only looked at them with a hint of sardonic amusement; “what can we do to please you?”_

_“Come” she called, pulling the one at her feet into an embrace; “Let me show you” he heard her mutter through a twisted smirk before Nymeria’s lips captured one of the twins in a kiss that was far too intense for a child of her age, a girl no less! But Oberyn only bellowed to himself with laughter as he retreated back to Doran’s solar, where he could already hear his brother’s deep chuckles echoing his own hilarity_

_‘She is mine’ he sighed to himself with relief, any doubt he ever had leaving his mind completely._

 

“Forgive me my sweet” he apologized; “sometimes your lord father just needs time to put things into prospective” he knelt before Tyene so that they were eye to eye, equals in opinion and voice “I’m a bit slow like that you see” she giggled at his jape despite herself, her dark humour not being able to resist such a mockery to ones-self.

“Come” he told both girls as he held out a hand for each of them; “let us go find my wife”

‘Wife’ he thought to himself as he felt the two precious princesses lace themselves around his arm as best as their short bodies could; ‘even now after two years it is still such a foreign term’

He had not wed for love, though Oberyn Martell would never have wanted to, like most things he had done since that cursed tourney at Harrenhal, he had wed because his brother commanded it of him albeit not everything goes the way Doran desires it to – 

 

_”She is a wildling!” Doran bellowed, something he had done a lot more of since he put a crown on his head; “I will have you choose another”_

_“I will not” he said sternly, Oberyn had spent too long capturing the girl to not be serious about this decision; “I have stolen her brother –“_

_“This is Dorne, Oberyn!” Doran roared before coughing himself into a fit of breathlessness_

_‘You’re going to cause your heart an attack, brother’ Oberyn grimaced, though he knew such worries were of little concern to Doran when he was so hysterical_

_“Your laws dictate, brother, that those who wish to continue traditions and such of their own culture –“_

_“Others take you Oberyn!” Doran cursed; “Must you always find a way to slither out of propriety?”_

_“Yes Doran! I must!” He roared, his temper flaring as easily as his brother’s diminished; “For if I do not perhaps you will think that I have come to accept your decision, that this is not against my will, and that I am quite happy to accept the fate you’ve given me”_

_“Why her?” Doran asked resignedly after taking a long moment to consider everything, as though he had given up fighting this but still wanted the clarity for at least some peace of mind; “She cannot bring Elia back”_

_“Not everything has to do with Elia” he lied, though this time it were true. This had nothing to do with Elia, Oberyn wanted this woman specifically for one reason; “Ygritte wants this less than me” he said with a slight snort, ridiculous as it was that a wild woman would not want a prince._

_“So you wish to tame the wild do you, brother?” Doran japed, forgetting his anger long enough to remember he did in fact, have a sense of humour._

_“I wish nothing of the sort” Oberyn purred, taking his regular stance behind his brother’s right shoulder to assess the mess of a desk from a bird’s eye view_

_“Our lords will not be pleased” Doran huffed; confirmation that the battle was indeed over. Oberyn breathed a sigh of relief though he made sure it was inaudible to his brother, he didn’t want to fight with Doran, not over this, not anymore._

_“Our lords can fuck themselves” Oberyn scoffed ignoring the way his brother looked at him; “I have done enough for them Doran, bar Aric, Tremond, Trebor and our ladies of court, no one has done anything but demand more of us, they will not demand anything else of me” he stared into Doran’s eyes hoping his brother could see the need to have this one thing his way; “I will not wed any other way”_

_“So be it” Doran murmured quietly, not truly willing to accept his own words enough to say them too loudly._

_Three days later he was saying vows in the sept before Gods he didn’t believe in, to a wildling girl of ten and nine who thought that it were a joke. In Oberyn’s opinion, it couldn’t have been more perfect any other way._

 

“They’re all in father’s solar” Arianne informed him as she pulled at his wrists, directing him quickly down her desired path.

Oberyn smiled to himself looking at them, how different they were in look and yet so alike in heart, he had heard the same of another cousin they shared, one who probably looked more like Arianne and Nymeria though her true name was not Martell or Sand. The men who arrived in Planky Town spoke of a girl who had the Martell look but dark valyrian eyes, some spoke of her beauty and kindness, others of her wit and knowing but most of them spoke of her abilities – 

‘Myths’ he’d told lords who found themselves curious of such rumours; ‘nothing but embellished stories’ how long Doran expected such lies to last, he did not know, but he told them still and prayed they would suffice for long enough.

“My Prince” the low rumbling voice of Aric Dayne addressed from just outside the door of Doran’s chambers; “and my princesses” he added with a playful bow and wink that had the girls giggling – something he would have to address sooner than he had hoped.

“What are you doing out here Aric?” he said more sharply than the girls obviously thought was necessary, for Arianne all but stomped on his foot and Tyene impaled him with a glare that had Aric chuckling

“I’m afraid I was waiting for our Lord King, my Prince –”

“You can wait a moment or two longer then my lord” Arianne interjected, her curt manner leaving no room for debate; “we shan’t take too long opening gifts I promise you” she added with a gracious smile.

“Of course, your Grace” Aric bowed, trying to hide the smile on his face no doubt; “before I forget” he says reaching into his tunic to pull out three velvet pouches of different colours; “this is yours, your Grace” he said passing the gold coloured pouch to Arianne who accepted it happily with a kiss; “and this is yours, princess” he finished holding out the green velvet pouch to Tyene

“For me?” she asked looking more shocked than Oberyn had ever seen her – for even young snakes were difficult to surprise. 

“Well I don’t see another princess around here, do you?”

“Thank you” she managed after looking questionably at Lord Dayne, then the gift, then him, then Arianne, then back to the gift. He supposed such bewildered confusion was due to the unfamiliarity of it all. Tyene had become used to such affection from her family, as reluctant as she first was, but affection from outsiders was unheard of, something to be wary of rather than thankful for.

‘Good’ Oberyn approved to himself; ‘trust no one’

He watched as the girls opened their satchels to reveal tiny bracelets with little bells, they were almost identical though Arianne’s was gold and Tyene’s was silver, they gasped in unison before shrieking;

“They’re the same!” In the deafening way only high pitched little girls could achieve, it didn’t bother him though, if they were happy he was happy, his family’s safety and happiness was all that mattered – but then his family was still incomplete, wasn’t it?

“They’re not exactly the same” Aric laughed, obviously finding more joy in children than he ever did in court, the Gods were cruel for denying such a man of his own offspring; “Princess Arianne yours has a sun for a pendant whereas –“

“Yours is a snake coiled around an egg of some kind” Arianne finished as she helped Tyene put hers on as her cousin had just done for her.

“There’s a secret about them you know” Aric said mysteriously as though the fool were capable of magic, he was quite a funny bastard when he wasn’t wallowing in his losses

“A secret? Truly? Oh please Lord Dayne you must tell us” Arianne pleaded excitedly on behalf of both of them

“Come” he said conspiratorially, gesturing for them to come closer so that the secret may be kept to the three of them. Oberyn didn’t intrude of course, girls needed a bit of secrecy in their lives, especially ones with Martell blood in their veins

“Thank you Lord Aric” the girls said again, though he noted this time he had earned a kiss from both Arianne and Tyene.

‘Must have been some secret’ he mused with a snort.

“Oh, do I get one too, my lord?” Oberyn mocked in the most girlish voice he could muster noting that there was still another gift in the man’s hand. His jape only earned him another dirty look, though this time Arianne chose to subtly – yet forcefully, jab him in the side with her little fist rather than crush his toes with her little foot. Oberyn was glad for her aggression truly, it showed that she was not weak, she would not submit and she will administer discipline where need be, as a good future Queen ought to, he only wished she expressed herself so on someone else

“Sorry to disappoint you my prince but this is for Princess Sarella, I’m afraid I will not be able to visit by her –“

“Eighth” he finished, knowing that the man seemed somewhat confused

“Truly? Only eight? Gods be good, that girl is brilliant beyond her years my prince”

“I know” Oberyn said all too proudly, but why not? Can’t a man enjoy the success of his seed? “Thank you” he said, forgetting his cockiness to demonstrate gratitude – as best as Oberyn Martell could anyhow, for truly he was grateful he had men like Aric Dayne who respected their liege lords enough to never question authority, it was refreshing to see a genuine heart in a man of his brother’s court. In times like now, Doran needed as many good loyal men as he could muster. It was damn shame things had turned out so horribly for the other Dayne siblings

“How’s the boy?” Oberyn suddenly asked, remembering yet another child that was left for him to care for

“Aramis is well” Aric replied with a faint but sad smile, “he grows with every passing sun, I swear it”

“He must be at least three now –“

“Almost four, my prince”

“One of these days Aric, I shall be coming to claim him” Oberyn warned, though there was no malice in his words

“With all due respect, my prince, he is not yours to –”

“Oh but he is Aric” Oberyn hissed, recounting to himself the events that made him entitled to feel so; “I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for this family Lord Dayne, but I made a promise to your sister on her death bed, and as you should know by now, my word is not wind” Aric looked to be contemplating defiance though he seemed to banish it away – reluctantly, so Oberyn pressed on to reassure him how he knew Lord Dayne needed to be; “you will sire a son sooner than you know Aric”

“You think so, my prince” Aric mumbled forlornly, confirming that Oberyn had found the right strings to pull on his heart. He hated being so manipulative really but when the occasion called for it –

“I know it, my lord, you can take it from a man that is more fertile than he desires, I give it no more than two years”

Aric smiled at the encouragement but it was much too quick to waver; “Aramis and Allyria are all I have left, my prince –“

“I will not take him from you entirely –“

“But you will take him and I doubt very highly, my prince, that you will ever give him back to me the same”

Oberyn had done this more times than any man should, taken a child away from the loving embrace of their blood, but this time was different, he swore an oath;

 

_”Come on Ash, push!” Oberyn urged as she squeezed at his hand for relief – though he thought perhaps at one point she just wanted to see him in as much pain as her; “You can do this Ash, it’s just child birth that’s all”_

_In hindsight he knew he had no right saying such things; the words ‘just child birth’ should never be said nonchalantly, as though the creation of human life was anything less than a miracle. Oberyn had only wanted to make light of the situation; Ashara would know that_

_“I can’t Obie, I can’t” she cried through the pains that took her_

_“You can Ashara, you can do this, if anyone can it’s you –“_

_Not a single coherent noise was made for the hours following, though at times Oberyn thought perhaps he heard ‘Ellie’ lingering in her the depths of her wails, as though Ash had meant to call for his sister but pain had taken her voice instead._

_“A boy” the maester had announced though there was barely any happiness in his voice; “a healthy boy my lady”_

_She had cried hysterically then, laughter and bitterness combining together in a way that almost had him sobbing;_

_“This is not the end Ash, our story cannot end this way” he’d whispered against her sweaty temple as she still lay weak from exhaustion against his chest. Ladies worked silently to try and stop the bleeding, while the maester readied the milk of poppy to see her to her peace painlessly – he could’ve fucking killed them all_

_‘She will not die!’ He hissed to himself, ‘I will not let her die’_

_“Obie, my love” she croaked; “hold him to my chest for me, I wish to see him, if only once”_

_He had thought to object, make a soothing rebuttal of some kind but now was not the time; “Maester” Oberyn called instead, beckoning the man to bring him the babe that had killed the only woman he had ever hoped to wed, for Oberyn Martell loved Ashara Dayne, as twisted as their love was it was one they had been brewing almost all their lives._

_Oberyn took the boy without much thought to how gentle he should perhaps handle a new born babe but he cared not; ‘Will I always resent him so?’ he pondered coldly to himself as he peered over Ashara’s shoulder at the wrinkled face that was threatening to cry_

_“Look at him Obie” Ashara murmured the sound of fresh tears in the crack of her voice; “he looks just like me –“_

_“He’s ugly” Oberyn snorted before his mind had the time to truly process his words_

_“Are you calling me ugly?” She japed, now at a time like this_

_“You are the most beautiful woman a man could hope to conjure in his dreams, my Queen” – ‘my Queen’ Ashara had always been his first Queen, Ellie had always been Arthur’s. It was an agreement they had made in their early adolescence – though it seemed almost a curse to look on it now._

_“I’ve always loved you Obie” she said sounding suddenly more desperate; “you’re the only man I ever would have wed willingly –“_

_“I know” he punctuated with a kiss to the top of her head, “I know”_

_“We waited too long Obie –“_

_“We should have had longer” he admitted through silent tears_

_“We should have” she replied weakly, sounding far more distant than she had before. Her body felt heavier against his –_

_“Ash!” He called beckoning her back from unconsciousness; “Ashara please – please –“ he knew not what to say, what to do, how to make this better; “your son!” he remembered, hoping that the boy had more power of revival than he obviously did; “wake up Ash you cannot leave your son”_

_“Our son” she murmured weakly, her thick eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly though her eyes never opened; “he is ours”_

_“But the boys blood father –“_

_“Was taken by war and duty only after I denied him”_

_“Ash you cannot ask this of me –“_

_“You are my champion Oberyn, you are my love, you are all I have, please –“_

_“Hush” he said soothingly as he pulled the babe in his arms closer to her heart still_

_“Promise me you will care for him like he was your own” she cried desperately, peppering gentle kisses to the babe in between her words_

_“Promise me you will love him because he is mine”_

_“Please Ash don’t leave us –“_

_“Promise me Oberyn, promise me”_

_“I – I promise Ash, now until the day I die I swear, your wish is my command”_

_He felt her smile then though he could not see it, he had always played at being the champion of her cause when they were children, it had broken his heart the first time Elia chose Arthur, though Ashara had passionately kissed his anguish away in one of the secluded gardens and he was quick if not eager to forget such slights in future games._

_“Aramis” she mumbled though it was so quiet that even at their close proximity he struggled to hear it; “his name is Aramis”_

_Sleep took her then and only after the setting of the sun did the Stranger truly place his kiss upon Ashara’s sweet lips, lips that were so like the child that he still held in his arms_

_“Your name is Aramis Sand, boy” he told the bundle in his arms who had been quiet and solemn throughout the entire thing, though he squirmed in discomfort often; “you killed your mother and now all you have is me, so you are mine”_

_‘And I am yours’ though he vowed it to no one but himself_

__”There is no safer place below those marches than next to me, Aric”

“I know this my prince but –“

“There are no buts Aric” Oberyn said with a finality that looked to almost infuriate the man more, though he hid it well behind a white stone face – so like his sister’s; “Ashara left the boy to me to be raised as if he were mine, it will be so”

Dayne huffed in resignation at that; “I could never understand you two”

“No one ever could” he said as he disappeared into the solar after his niece and daughter

“Well it’s about bloody time Oberyn Nymeros Martell” Mellario chastised in the motherly way that always had him smiling, the opposite to its desired effect; “we have only been waiting here for over an hour –“

“Come now Mel, let us be thankful that on this joyous occasion _most_ of us, are here –”

“Your wife has been here tending to your children –“

“Don’t think o’ bringing me into this” Ygritte snorted in the true northern fashion he had come to find – enticing; “I told yer I didn’t care one bit whether he were ‘ere or not, truly, I’m not bothered”

“I love you too my wild Queen” he drawled sarcastically, though the meaning to his words were true enough, he had come to love this mad woman in a way

“Well the girls have been waiting, I have been waiting –“

“Gods save it woman” Doran grunted, something that had Mellario shooting daggers at him with her eyes; “he is here, we are here, let us exchange the gifts and be done with this” the room fell into an awkward silence at that and Oberyn could see the way his brother was cursing himself for such harsh words in the crease of his brow – Doran had been impatient as of late, paranoid, indecisive, it was worrisome.

“Forgive me brother, I spend too long reminiscing. Come girls” he called to Arianne, Tyene and Sarella; “I shall give my gifts first”

“Ya mean _our_ gifts” Ygritte corrected, rising from her place on the divan near the stained glass window depicting dawn. She had taken well to Dorne, abandoning the furs he had found her in for the silks and chiffons that the ladies of their court wore; though she would never admit it he knew how she loved pretty things.

Lewyn had wrapped himself up in the trail of her dress, for a boy of only two name days he was strong and well balanced. The very image of Oberyn Martell, bar the fact that his eyes were the same burning brown-ember of his mother’s, Lewyn Nymeros Martell was everything he thought he ever wanted in a child, though once a man had daughters the love of a son seemed less fulfilling

Oberyn had named his son in honour of his Uncle, a man who wished to one day have a wife and many sons, though that dream had been taken from him long ago. Ygritte had not wanted to name their son until he saw his second year, some ridiculous superstition the ‘freed folk’ – as she called them, held to. Doran had objected of course, dornish men had no dread for the winter, for what was winter in the desert?

‘You know nothing, Oberyn Martell’ she’d told him, more times than he remembered to count

None the less in the end Ygritte relented; ‘I didn’t come as south as south could go to live as I did in the North, Prince Snake’ she teased, for his fiery wife was always teasing; ‘but never mock the coming winter for truly, you know nothing Oberyn Martell’ 

Ygritte had said it to him so solemnly that he wondered for but one moment what it is that drove her away from the home she spoke so fondly of still – but truly he cared not when it meant she could stand here before him now, in the Martell shades of orange and red that so complemented the peach of her skin and the fire of her hair. She was fire his runaway spear-wife, a woman that had birthed him a black viper for a son and a red sun for a daughter – 

‘Ella? Where is Ella?’ he suddenly panicked only just realising that his youngest daughter was not in her usual position on her mother’s lap

“She sleeps” Ygritte answered, probably not needing words to register his look of shock and worry; “she’s a calm one that one, always lazy and sleeping like her father”

“Will she sleep through the night?”

“Aye, she were up before the sun, I should hope she would set before it too”

“Children more difficult than you assumed?” he taunted as he laced himself around her waist, she was such a tiny thing, even after birthing him two children her legs were still skinny and stomach still flat. Oberyn had always preferred more curvaceous women, but on Ygritte he figured it would look quite ridiculous.

“Snakes are more difficult than I assumed” she snapped though her eyes bore into his affectionately. Ygritte had not wanted to be a mother, an extra mouth to feed was apparently not something they yearned for above the Wall, but it was different in Dorne, he had assured her so. Oberyn knew a premade family of four girls would be difficult enough for someone as young as Ygritte, never mind the fact that she had little to no education, but the fact that his girls were sand snakes probably did not help

“What have they done now?”

“Nothing” all of them blurted in unison reminding Oberyn that he had stood up to present himself and yet he had got side tracked by this woman, something that was happening far too often for his liking.

“I see I will have something to investigate later” he threatened with a smirk; “but for now” he added beckoning for one of the maids to retrieve his – their gifts from the reading room

“Arianne, my sweet niece, come” he said first as he took a gold box from the servant; “this my dear is for you –“

“To remind you of how beautiful you are” Ygritte finished knowingly, they had chosen the gifts using the information Ygritte had gathered from her time at the Gardens with the girls. Arianne had apparently believed that her beauty had been marred by the pox she had only just recovered from, the insecurities about her size did not help her cruel self-judgement. Oberyn couldn’t see what she was talking about, she was beautiful, she was Dorne, ‘But she is a little girl’ Ygritte had told him; ‘all little girls like to feel pretty’ he had smiled and wondered if she spoke from experience but she’d only scoff at the sentiment, surely?

“A mirror” Arianne murmured running her little fingers along the intricate designs of the frame, studying every detail – so like her father; “it’s beautiful” she added with a wide smile, though her eyes never left the golden shine of their gift, so easily hypnotized by pretty things – like her mother he thought with fond amusement

“Thank you Aunt Yggy” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Ygritte, not realising that her cousin was still hiding in his mother’s skirts

“Ouch” he barked indignantly as Arianne’s arm accidentally connected with his face

“Oh my sweet Lewy!” Arianne gasped with remorse, pulling her little cousin into her arms; “forgive me Lewy, cousin did not see you there”

“Kay” his son huffed, though the annoyance remained on his handsome little face as he went back to hiding behind his mother – Oberyn would have to get that out of him sooner or later, though he could wait for later.

“Cousin didn’t mean it Lewy, you know that” Tyene reassured as she ruffled the curls of his hair

“Kay” Lewyn repeated nonchalantly, rolling his eyes as if at two years old, he really couldn’t give a fuck. 

‘My son’ Oberyn thought affectionately with a smile –

“Is this mine father?” Sarella asked excitedly as she took the linen wrapped parcel that looked suspiciously like a book

“It is –“

“May I?” 

“You should wait for ya sister’s turn –“

“Thank you Yggy” Tyene said affectionately, the love that had grown between the two was still such a mystery to him, although he had not been there when Lewyn was born – sadly, so he did not see when their relationship had truly blossomed; “but I can be patient”

Sarella had not even waited for permission to open hers, so eager she always was to have a new book to read; “Monuments, Wonders and Magic: The memoirs of Bran the Builder” she said with a reverence, that both he and Doran had apparently found amusing

“How did you –“

“I know some people” Ygritte answered; “I am northern after all, it wouldn’t be the first thing I’ve brought south beyond those mountains”

“Father – Yggy – I – I just can’t” she stuttered as her eyes and fingers flicked through the pages of old written languages long dead even in Winterfell

“Thank your father” Ygritte said with a smirk; “he paid the true price for it”

“The true price?” Doran mused, obviously finding humour in Oberyn’s defeat, he despised them both for it – though never truly

“His pride” Ygritte laughed in the hearty way that sounded so rich in her raspy voice, Doran echoed her hilarity in his own deep chuckles.

‘Fuck you both’ he thought affectionately; ‘and fuck the over grown dog too’ – though there was no kindness held in his after thought

“Thank you so much father” Sarella said as she buried her head against his abdomen, as little as she still was she hardly reached past his belly button; “this is exactly what I wished for”

“I know” he murmured, sending his wife a look of gratitude for learning such things of his children.

“So this is mine then?” Tyene asked curiously as she assessed the wooden box that still remained to be presented

“This one was picked solely by yer father” Ygritte told her with a cunning smile; “I would have picked the bigger one”

“An apothecary set!” She shrieked with excitement as she opened the chest; “Oh father you shouldn’t have”

“No” Doran agreed with a rise of his brow; “he really shouldn’t have”

“Oh leave it Doran, Tyene is happy and that is all that matters, isn’t it my sweet?” Mellario soothed, though there was an edge to her voice reserved solely for Doran. The two of them had been arguing more than usual and though their love had never faded Oberyn thought perhaps the willingness to love had. His brother had damned his marriage the day he told Mellario of his deal with the Yronwoods

‘Blood for blood’ Mellario had hissed at him that night as though it were a curse; ‘this is your fault Oberyn, they take my son to pay your price’

Mel had learnt to forgive him once she learnt the truth of his duel with Edgar but Doran suffered her wrath still – at least for now she still had Quentyn but once the Yronwoods came to claim him what would extinguish her ire? Perhaps the babe in her womb now would sate her motherly need to keep her children.

“Come now my King, let us present our gifts”

His sweet sister in law had ordered the best silks of Norvos to be fashioned into dresses for Tyene and Arianne, and unisex tunics with breeches for Sarella. Doran had opened accounts for each of the girls at the Iron Bank, a sensible gift that children saw little value in but the girls thanked him with a warm embrace and appreciative kiss.

Mellario had called for the maids to serve the sweet little orange cakes she knew all the children loved, the girls spent time showing off their gifts from Aric to Nymeria and Obara who only looked down on them with fond amusement

“A myrish far-eyes” Sarella squealed with delight; “look father, look what Aric gave me”

“I see my love” he murmured from behind the array of Ygritte’s hair as he had buried himself in it the moment she took her seat on his knee; “The Dayne brothers always did know how to please a woman” he mumbled to himself

“Do they now?” Ygritte purred, no doubt to inspire a rise from him; “perhaps I should seek out these Dayne Lords of yours – “

“Perhaps, I can command him to our bed for you” Oberyn suggested, knowing that his wickedness was causing a blush to creep up her pale neck and face, for as wild as people thought her to be, Oberyn Martell was far wilder, “why so quiet my love? Lost the courage to tease have you?”

“You are a cursed, evil man” she hissed

“I am” Oberyn agreed as he nuzzled into her hair again; “though I doubt you would want me any other way”

“Who is it that says I want ya at all?”

“You have no say either way” he taunted; “I stole that right from you the night I stole you for my own”

“Aye” she hissed again, so defiant and sarcastic like a snake of the desert after only a few years of being below the marches. Oberyn was proud of his wife, though few would know why, she was a strong woman his Ygritte, she had given him beautiful and gifted children, she had taken to his daughters with more acceptance than he believed any noble born woman could, she had delivered him the most important message he would ever receive; 

 

_I am safe, I am well. I love you_

_E_

 

“Even though I’ve had to learn to share you with others” she added bitterly, though like everything they said to one another, there was no real poison. 

‘Love grows easily in a well-tended garden’ Doran had told him the night he declared love would never have a place in his union, in the beginning that is what they had both desired, but then time does have a way of changing minds and hearts

“You share me with no one, Yggy. I’ve kept to your bed –“

“Just because I have your cock” she punctuated with a firm grope to said region; “does not mean I have your heart”

“My heart belongs to many woman, my love” Oberyn confirmed her suspicions, though such a thing could never have been denied; “but my vows are to you –“

“Words are wind” she scoffed, waving him off with a dismissive hand gesture he assumed she learnt from Mellario – he would have to have a word with his sister about what manners were necessary for Ygritte to know.

“I promised you I would provide you with a good life; I promised you sun and summer whenever you pleased. I have given that to you, have I not?”

“You have Oberyn and you have given me more –“

“Then why worry so when I am the sun and I vanquish your winter?”

“You know nothing, Oberyn Martell” she said solemnly with the shake of her head; “nothing”

“Girls, Lewy” Mellario beckoned, calling the children to her to administer a mother’s order. He was thankful every day that the Gods had given his family their Mel; “come now, let us share the excitement with the rest of the children in the Gardens” she encouraged, leading the girls out of the door and leaving Doran and Oberyn to discuss whatever matters had obviously been plaguing his brother.

“I’ll check on the girl” Ygritte muttered, taking Doran’s glare as a queue to make leave

“Ella” he corrected for the thousandth time. Even though Ygritte hadn’t put up much fight to name the children, she had been stubborn enough to refer to them as ‘the boy’ or ‘the girl’ until Lewyn had reached his second name day – though Ella was still ‘the girl’; “give her a kiss for me” he crooned affectionately, suddenly missing the light of his life more with the reminder of her; “and then wait for me” Oberyn added suggestively with an eager grin. Ygritte had only laughed her way out of the solar, Lewyn trailing along behind her, as he had chosen not to abandon his mother’s skirts for his aunt’s

‘Little mama’s boy’ Oberyn inwardly teased, though he would be a hypocrite for saying so. Oberyn loved his mother fiercely and she had loved him just as strongly in return, he was her baby after all, the youngest of her nest, such unconditional love came easily when you held such a title in your mother’s eyes – though he often wondered if ‘the oldest’ was in fact the secretly favoured.

He didn’t hold it to his mother for playing favourites from time to time of course, Doran had been the only one of their parent’s children to survive the cot for nine long years before Elia was born and Elia was the only girl so was worshipped by their entire family as the Queen they believed her to be. That left the second son, the one that should go unnoticed – but then nothing went unnoticed under the all seeing eye of the knowing sun

 

_”Why do you cry my son?” she had whispered to the shadows, knowing he was hiding in their darkness_

_“Because no one loves me!” A six year old Oberyn spat, jealous and sensitive as always_

_“Who says no one loves you, my little snake?” She drawled in the way only a dornish woman could, though it did not keep to her usual tone of sarcasm and indifference, when Loreza spoke to her children she always sounded warm and soothing like the sun_

_“I know no one does!” He hissed petulantly, never minding the fact his words almost brought tears to her eyes_

_“Why would you think that –“_

_“Ellie loves Doran’s stories the most and she always cries to him first like he will save her from her fears” he scoffed, thinking it a joke that **he** was not the champion when **he** was the best fighter; “She says he is her big brother so he is her true God given champion –“_

_“If this is only because your sister finds security in –“_

_“You do it too” he snapped, hating being interrupted when he was shamelessly putting his heart on his sleeve_

_“Me – you think I show favouritism? Why would you –” His lady mother sounded truly puzzled as to how her son had come to such a conclusion. Oberyn should’ve perhaps been relieved that she was not aware of her actions but it only served to feed his fury_

_“Doran is the King of your heart and Ellie is your Queen, whereas I am your no one, I am your nothing –“ Oberyn’s voice grew weaker with each word, the last declaration falling from his trembling lips sounded more hurt than the hurtful hiss he had intended it to be._

_“Nothing?” She asked sarcastically, thinking now of all times was the best moment to remember she were indeed a snake – Oberyn wished it did not encourage him to grin back at her so; “You are **my** champion, the hero of my cause, my warrior of ten thousand spears –“_

_“What are you dreaming of now mother?” he japed, as quick to abandon his tears as he was to lose his temper, always the cold-blooded dornish snake._

_“One day, you will see” she murmured reassuringly as she pulled him from the shadows to her chest, patting him on the back as she swayed to some imaginary rhythm; “my little champion of the spear” she had whispered to him repetitively as though it were some kind of prayer; “protector and avenger of the sun”_

 

Oberyn had practiced with a spear from that day forward, doing his best to please and impress his mother, though he would never admit so, not even to himself. He was determined to fulfil her dreams desire, be the champion of ten thousand spears she had envisioned – though he hardly understood it then. He swore the first of many oaths he would ever keep, the day his mother passed, leaving him confused and tormented;

 

_”Oberyn please –“ she cried frantically, wasting the little energy she had left to grasp at his wrists; “stay with me my son”_

_“Let me get Doran mother” Oberyn pleaded, his mind reeling through ideas of how to make this better; “I’ll go and get the maester –“_

_“No!” Loreza commanded, still able to dictate control even in her weakest hour; “It has to be you, my son”_

_“What has to be me mother, what?”_

_“When the wild wolf howls” she began weakly, her voice suddenly sounding whimsical, prophetic and ominous; “and the sun bleeds, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives –“_

_“I know mother” he interrupted, not intending to be rude but rather hoping to save her energy; “you have told me this before, remember?”_

_“Ella?” she mumbled after a moment of unconsciousness, Oberyn had thought to leave her but her grip had only tightened on him as she sunk away from reality; “my poor sweet Ella, tell her to forgive me my son”_

_“Worry not about that now mother, just let me go get Doran and you can tell her –“_

_“Doran” she murmured in awe as though it were the only word she had heard him say; “my King of Freemen, my son, my boy” her eyes suddenly snapped open, tears burning in their black abyss; “avenge your brother, protect your sister – avenge him – protect her, Ella, Ella –“Loreza began rambling again; “tell her I understood, tell her I forgive her and when you look to tomorrow and know I saw it with you –“ her voice breaking as her eyes fluttered shut for ever more; “forgive me”_

_“Mother – Mother? Mama – **Mama** ”_

 

They say his hysterical screams were heard throughout Dorne, that every man woman and child had known their Crowned Princess had left them by the cries of her youngest son – though they dared not say as such in his presence.

“There is trouble stirring in the winds, brother” Doran began once the door had been firmly closed behind his spear-wife and they were left to their own privacy; “there are rumours that the heir of Highgarden is lost in my deserts –“

“Don’t be ridiculous Doran” Oberyn scoffed; “you know as well as I the Prince’s Pass has been blocked –“

“And who is to say he took such a route to enter?”

Oberyn pondered the question for a moment, wondering what that had to do with anything – but then it was only a mere moment; “What does that matter Doran? As you say, the desert has claimed him”

“I need you to find him, brother –“

“What?” Oberyn questioned incredulously; “scour the desert for a flower Doran? Have you lost your wits?

“I need him alive Oberyn; he did not get into my realm unassisted”

“You think he had the aid of a snake?” Oberyn growled, realising as he spoke the question that it was indeed rhetorical

‘Of course he had help’ Oberyn realised, ‘no one enters the pit without the knowledge of the snakes’

“I am giving you one moon to find him –“

“And if I cannot?”

“Then you have one moon to find the source of the problem” Doran said with finality, though there was a smile creeping onto his lips; “unless of course you will not be attending our family reunion in Sunspear” he trailed off suggestively

“A reunion – you mean –“

“Aye brother” his brother answered knowingly, for what else could he have meant; “our sister’s coming home”


	18. Rhaegar V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just got a new lappy (last week) yaye! :D sorry this chapter took awhile but I was waiting till I got another laptop to continue writing (really couldn't be bothered writing on my phone anymore)
> 
> Anyway Rhaegar starts going a little something something in this chapter, although he's not as crazy as he thinks he is. As always sorry about the editing, I get lazy :/ I apologize, review and comments appreciated
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)

Rhaegar Targaryen - 286 AL King's Landing

 

It always started the same, whether he were standing in the middle of a dry red desert, aboard a black ship with red sails flying high on strong winds or standing outside a quaint home with a great red door – the giggling always drew him to her

For the first year or so Rhaenys had noticed him, in the beginning she had greeted him as lovingly as his little princess always had though she never once came to him – not truly

‘Shh’ she’d whisper in his direction mischievously, ‘we’re pretending’

But with each passing moon she grew more and more distant, her smile for him fading, her excitement to see him dissipating, until one night – she didn’t even notice he was there anymore

Some dreams were sure to be visions of heaven even though most of them were hell. Sometimes he would see Rhaenys weaving an intricate tale of magic and heroism, her little brother the captivated audience. A chubby babe of no more than one in the beginning had slowly grown into an energetic boy quick to happiness and laughter

Rhaegar supposed that was all apart of his curse, that he should see them age in his dreams when reality allows no such joy. No one understood how that plagued him so.

Some nights were far better than others but those that had him waking in a cold sweat, a tension in his muscles so tight he could barely move – those nights were becoming more regular

In those dreams the Wall had fallen. He would see seas of men; some old, some young, some vaguely familiar, but all of them dead – all of them rotting, all of them cold. They came in the mist, one by one at first until eventually they crashed down on the living in waves of hundreds, thousands even! It was chaos, it was destruction, it was madness – and it consumed him

The screams, the cries, the pleas for salvation – they were torturous to his heart and spirit, but that was nothing compared to the snow that silenced them all. The wind froze in the chests of small children and babes alike; and fever claimed the innocent for the Stranger first. Women suffered the frenzied raping of men maddened by starvation and thirst, though some took up weapons to protect themselves from the creatures of the cold and men of living flesh equally, most perished in their attempts to defend their honour and virtue. Men had become wretched and vile creatures, savages with no compassion for the weak and defenceless.

But then the Others in the mist would come to take them; the Others would take them all

The living died as all men must but refused to stay dead for long. They came for the ones that managed to survive the horrors of winter, so jealous and spiteful they were of those who still held warmth in their bodies. 

Such visions were devastating to Rhaegar’s psyche but no one cared to listen, no one understood. When all hope seemed lost and damnation looked inevitable he would hear her again, that sweet giggle so full of hope – so truly haunting

Rhaenys – now a woman grown of roughly twenty years, sat atop a giant black dragon as though she were a Queen and it was her throne. Her laughter had grown more mature with her, no longer like the tinkering bells of youthful innocence but a husky, sorrowful ring as sad and melancholic as the sound of Rhaegar’s own amusement

‘Brother’ she beckoned to the storming cloud beneath the expansion of her dragon’s wings, her call answered by a hearty howl, streaked with laughter. A boy of sun-kissed cream skin and bright violet eyes so like Rhaegar’s mother’s came into sight, mounted on a silver dragon with swords of variant sizes for its scales;

Aegon, his prince who was promised but never was to be. So happy and carefree, wild yet disciplined, like a conqueror with the ambition to claim the world and set it free. He looked so much like him with his platinum gold hair, and purple hue eyes, but so much more like Elia, his sweet, gentle Ellie with her teasing smile that knows too much and her soothing eyes, warm and vibrant like the sun. How could the Gods be so cruel to show him visions that could never be? All he had ever wanted was to protect the realm

‘Come sister’ Aegon would bellow averting Rhaegar’s attention away from his despair. Rhaenys was his only sister, even to this day she still was – perhaps now that the Gods have cursed his wife, she always would be, but then Aegon’s eyes were never on Rhaenys when he called, he had always looked down upon snow covered mountains at a girl who had all but driven Rhaegar to his insanity.

Her grey-blue eyes so bright and striking bore into Rhaegar; as though she were the only one who could even see him there. The wind whipped around her furiously pulling her long black-brown curls in every wayward direction; making the hundreds of bells laced through her tresses jingle and tinker in an cacophony of ominous chimes. She looked fierce and commanding perched on the edge of a cliff, high above the clouds, a look of indifference on her face as she assessed the turmoil beneath her, so solemn, so serious – like Visenya the Conqueror Queen.

She would laugh at him then, a hearty laugh so much like Lyanna’s, her expression turning dark like the one that marred Rhaenys’ face when the flames would engulf her in his other nightmares – but they would never burn her he noticed, after enduring the torture of watching wild fire take his babe a thousand times, Rhaegar had realised the fire never harmed her

‘Fire cannot kill a dragon’ she would hiss at him, so cruel that the only times she ever responded to him now was to stab at his heart with verbal daggers.

‘Sister’ Rhaenys would call to Visenya now, so affectionately and sweet that his heart could have shattered into a hundred pieces, to hear such a tone in her voice again regardless of where it was directed, simply broke him; ‘come sister, duty and destiny await us’ she’d giggle (demurely like her mother always did), as if this was not the end of the world but just a silly game. His sweet baby girl, how could he have let his father take her from him when she was all he ever truly loved?

Visenya would look at him then, really look at him, taunting him with a smirk that was so wolfish and familiar. A crown of ice covered blue roses sat on her head, sparkling like snowflakes in the light, a dark blue handprint smeared down the side of her face like a warrior painted for war, a white crow perched on her shoulder squawking ‘Queen, maiden Queen, Queen’ with irritating repetition – though she seemed to pay it no mind. The white staff dug into the snow at her feet glowed an eerie light blue, like the eyes of the Others;

‘Winter is coming’ she would warn him, as though winter was not already upon them; ‘Winter is coming’

For the first year Rhaegar had experienced these dreams that was all he saw, they always ended hopefully, with Visenya on her mountain warning him that, ‘Winter is coming’. Rhaegar had been so sure of himself then, when he had crowned Lyanna his Queen it had only seemed fitting, it had been the only thing that made sense to him at the time. They were so identical, so alike, both of them young Northern maidens of no more than ten and six, both had the same look of determination in their grey eyes as they readied for battle, like a true Warrior Queen. The daughter he foresaw could not have been his and Elia’s, she was a Stark through and through, she spoke their words. ‘Winter is coming’

Rhaegar tried to banish those thoughts, truly he did! They were just dreams, fabricated nightmares of his unconscious mind. The tourney was nothing but a lapse in judgement, he was in shock, he was in awe but he felt nothing more for Lyanna than a strong sense of respect and admiration – at least that was what he kept telling himself

He went back to focusing on his wife who was pregnant with their son, suffering as she was to carry the burden of her growing weight, the daughter he had loved so much but was slowly drifting away from and his mother who was falling into depression though he did not know why. Rhaegar did everything he could to comfort them as he suffered these nightly torments in silence, to reassure them that his heart was still with them even though his mind was far beyond the Wall.

But then Aegon was born and the maester told him Elia would bare him no more children, at least not without risking death – and that was a chance Rhaegar was simply not willing to take

‘The dragon must have three heads’ a dark inner voice would hiss in him, ‘the dragon must have three heads’

In the first four months of his first born son’s life, Rhaegar was ashamed to admit now that he had fantasised about a maiden girl of ten and five, dreaming of filling her womb with his seed and it quickening with their Warrior Queen. At first he had been repulsed by himself, disgusted that he should have such base desires for a naïve girl while his lady wife was still in her sick bed after birthing his son – but then there was always this lingering relief that for once, he had not been stricken with the grief of the dead.

Between visions of the Wall crumbling, Lyanna writhing and moaning beneath him and the Stark girl on the mountain telling him ‘winter is coming’, Rhaegar was slowly losing his mind. These dreams were not governed by the secrecy of night for long though, oh no, soon they came to him in the day. 

His concentration wavered; no longer did he tell stories to Rhaenys or spend his nights holding on to Elia as if she’d go away. Gods the only time he had ever truly held Aegon and worshipped him as a father should his first son, was when he had named Aegon for the Conqueror and declared him the Prince who was promised.

Even then, he realised now, all he could really think of was the prophecy he thought he was born for. Azor Ahai come again, born to lead them into the light though darkness surrounds them in all directions.

But by then the tremors had begun, a shaking that starts from the core of your body until eventually it’s taken over completely. Rhaegar had little to no sleep now, fearful and stricken with guilt for the things he saw and did in his dreams, he read hundreds of pages in books describing ‘dragon-dreams’, wanting to discover the true nature of his nightmares

His findings had only served to plague him more;

Dragon-dreams – true ones, all bore the same symptoms; they are vivid and realistic, so much so you can feel the cold of snow or the heat of the sun on your flesh, they are reoccurring, and not just once or twice but over and over and over, they begin to take you in the hours you wake as often as they do when you sleep, they effect you physically in such ways as shaking and convulsions, but perhaps the most daunting sign of all was the fact that all of them came to fruition.

Dragon-dreams cannot be changed; their predictions cannot be avoided and escaping them, simply was not done. 

What did the Gods want of him? Did they wish for him to spit on the vows he made before them, to the wife who’d been loyal and dutiful?

For the last four months he had spent with his family, Rhaegar Targaryen had not truly cared one bit for them – so consuming was his worry for the people. He dedicated himself instead to the dreams that haunted him, finding a way around them, a meaning to them –

In the end he chose to run away with Lyanna

It had been so easy in the beginning, Elia had been so agreeable, more than he ever imagined she would be – for though she was the sun of his days, a dornish sun can burn but Elia had all but shown him where to take Lyanna;

_’There is a tower in Dorne’ Elia murmured in his arms the dawn before he left her; ‘you will be safe there, she will be safe. It shall give you time’ the suggestive tone to her voice made him blush furiously despite himself_

_‘Where?’ he managed after his voice broke with embarrassment_

_‘Arthur will show you’ she reassured him; ‘tell him to take you to a tower of joy. He’ll know where to go’_

It made him sick with fury to think on it now, how he had been so blind to their transgressions. ‘A tower of joy?’ he would think to himself in his more unreasonable hours of late; ‘Why would you call it that eh Ellie? Is it because perhaps you were so very _joyful_ to get to your knees and take Arthur’s cock in your lying mouth?’

He loathed himself for feeling this way and imagining such things, it was disrespectful, it was callous, it was cruel – it was hypocritical, though he would never admit so. Why should he? He had always been as honest with Elia as he could be without hurting her feelings unnecessarily. Rhaegar had committed himself to their relationship wholly and truly – for the five years of their marriage he never once swayed from her for any kind of base desire or lust, Elia knew that! Rhaegar had all but torn himself apart inside over the guilt he felt for the things he wished for with Lyanna, but they had been making a fool of him for all those years, probably laughing about him behind his back for his unrequited affections and desire to be loved. He could picture it so clearly, Elia and Ashara sitting in the gardens giggling away as they did;

‘It isn’t so hard being married to Rhaegar’ he could imagine Elia purring in the conspiratorial way she had; ‘besides he looks so like Arthur that it’s easy enough to pretend’

His mind more than often got away on him he knew; when Rhaegar truly had a grip of himself he knew he could not hold it against either of them, not truly. Elia had never forsaken her vows to him, Arthur had grimaced as such – _grimaced_ much to Rhaegar’s simmering ire, Rhaegar doubted she had so much as laid a finger on Arthur inappropriately, so dutiful and faithful she always was, and Rhaegar only hoped if she had have, Arthur would’ve had control enough to resist it – so honour bound and driven to prove a point he was when Elia was still alive.

What did any of that really matter now though? His father had taken Elia from him in a way Arthur never could. His Rhaenys, his Aegon, his Ellie – they were all gone now. Rhaegar got it wrong, he realised that the day he returned to a burnt down keep, ruined and destroyed with no chance of life in its wreckage.

The dreams that possessed him had conveniently decided to fade then, making him question anything he had ever done or believed in, making him question his decisions, making him question himself. Everything was wrong, everything was different.

Lyanna gave him Jon, a sweet son he had never expected but one he had grown to love fiercely – as fiercely as his melancholy and grief would allow anyhow. There was no maiden Queen who had the look of the north, eyes as grey as Lyanna’s and skin as pale and luminescent as the snow, perhaps now that Lyanna’s womb has become barren after the loss of yet another son – that Rhaegar couldn’t truly bring himself to grieve for he had never wanted another son, such a daughter shall never be born to him.

Rhaegar would’ve come to accept that, he could’ve happily given up hope of ever trying to understand the horrors he saw. They had faded after all, only dreams of the family he had lost to the flames plagued him now, though that was enough to break his spirit still. 

He could’ve established some happiness with Lyanna though, the kind they had managed to find in each other under the beating sun of Dorne. There was love there he knew, a love given and taken so unwillingly, so unbeknownst to him.

Rhaegar couldn’t remember why she had told him she loved him the first time she did, perhaps he had let her play swords with Arthur for awhile, or perhaps he had brought her back something ‘pretty’ from the markets, whatever the reason it mattered not

‘I love you too’ he had replied, and Gods, how he had meant it.

It was exhilarating to love and be loved by her. It felt like a sign that this was what was meant to be, that he had made the right decision. It gave him the freedom to ignore the guilt that gnawed at him, the voices constantly telling him to go home – though they quietened with each passing day. Looking back on it now perhaps it was a trick, perhaps the Gods were just cruel and facetious enough to find amusement in his downfall, but he would never deny the happiness Lya had brought him in Dorne, he couldn’t even if he wished to.

They were different now, he knew, too much had happened to not have changed them. Lyanna Stark; the fearless girl who had fought men for the honour of a vassal, the one who laughed loudly with her whole heart as though such emotions were felt so much more intensely by the wolf-maid, the one who rode wild and free smiling with an honesty he had found so refreshing – she was gone now, replaced by a colder more haunted Lyanna Targaryen

She had all but turned against him since the miscarriage, he had thought perhaps honesty was what she needed, it was what she said she wanted – but sometimes honesty was perhaps not the best option;

_’There is no hope for a pack of our own’ she had said in defeat after the Grand Maester had made his way from the room; ‘I will never know the happiness of that ever again’_

_He had not known what to say to sooth her; from the aggressive vibe she was sending him he wasn’t sure if soothing her was even worth the trouble. Rhaegar only sat at the window instead, gazing out at the moon, contemplating everything he had ever done up until that point, the losses he had suffered, the guilt and depression he endured, he had done all of it for naught –_

_‘The dragon must have three heads’ he murmured to himself_

_‘What are you talking about now Rhaegar?’ she asked, no doubt curious as to why he looked so far off and most probably hurt by his distance_

_‘The dragon must have three heads’ Rhaegar repeated solemnly though it pained him like nothing else._

_‘I would have three’ he despaired to himself, never forgetting the first two children he sired; ‘if only Gods hadn’t been so cruel’_

_‘What do riddles have anything to do with this, with us?’ Lyanna snapped, tears blooming in her eyes as though her own self realisations were tearing her apart. He wanted so much to take that pain away from her, but she never let him, not anymore_

_‘There is a prophecy –‘he began after taking a silent moment to best compose the truth for her_

_‘A prophecy?’_

_‘Aye, **thee** prophecy, the only one that truly matters –‘_

_‘Again Rhaegar’ she growled impatiently, baring her teeth at him like a wolf; ‘what has that got anything to do with us?’_

_‘Everything!’ he roared more than he had truly meant to, but this is what she did to him, she inflamed him with passion and she enraged him just the same._

_‘Why do I love you when it feels this way?’ he wondered to himself for the thousandth time._

_‘Forgive me’ he says instead; ‘I only wish to be completely honest with you –‘_

_‘And what are you going to tell me Rhaegar?’ Lyanna scoffed cynically; ‘That you want another wife to give you back the babes you lost’_

_Her words were always so cutting, so cold, there was once a time when that had not been so – but like everything else that was gone now too_

_‘You cannot ever replace that which I have lost –‘_

_‘Oh of course not’ Lyanna snorted, seemingly unaware of the torment she caused him; ‘no one could be better than sweet Elia Martell, Elia who was the sun, Elia who was so perfect –‘_

_‘You will not speak of Elia in such a tone!’ Rhaegar snapped, coming to pound his fists on the foot of her bed indignantly; ‘You will not so much as mention her name –‘_

_‘And why not Rhaegar? Does it shame you still to think of the wife you discarded for me? Does it shame you to hear her name on the lips you forsook her for? Perhaps you see that you always loved her now that your wolf-bitch is unworthy? Well she was once unworthy to you too Rhaegar, at least unworthy enough to be fucking me in her homeland –‘_

_‘That is enough’ he hissed in her face, suddenly grabbing her by the arm with a force that shocked her into immediate silence; ‘you know nothing of what you speak. Elia was more worthy than I have learnt you **ever** will be! Never had I once casted Elia aside for you, **never**!’ he spat the word, so angry and hurt now he could no longer control the momentum of his emotions_

_‘Then why did you take me!? If you loved her so much, why did you do this to me?’ her accusation was so laced with pain that it almost broke through his fury, he loved her so much but she just wouldn’t understand, she wouldn’t even try to_

_‘A Prince who was promised was prophesised long ago –‘_

_‘Why do you keep coming back to this?’ Lyanna cried desperately, she looked so confused, so lost he simply had to tell her_

_‘The prophecy is the reason I chose you Lya’ Rhaegar replied softly, hoping that she would hear his plea to listen in the tone of his voice; ‘I had been possessed by dreams since just before I arrived at Harrenhal, just before I ever met you –‘_

_‘What do you –‘_

_‘I dreamt of a daughter’ he answered knowing what the question was; ‘I dreamt of a daughter, just like you’_

_‘So this was all for some fantasy –‘_

_‘It’s not just a fantasy Lyanna’ Rhaegar retorted with slight annoyance; ‘it’s a curse’_

_Lyanna had only sat there in silence, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to understand, he could see that; ‘Everything that has happened, everything we have done, it was all for some dream you had about a girl’ she said with a quivering voice threatening to make way for wails, ‘you thought I was her mother’ she realised, her voice finding more strength in her growing animosity; ‘you took me just to get a babe on!’_

_‘Lyanna –‘_

_‘No Rhaegar you lied to me!’ she accused, her eyes piercing him with a freezing glare; ‘you told me you wished to honour me, that you admired my courage and hoped to give me freedom, I have it all written in ink!‘_

_‘Lyanna please –‘_

_‘You made me believe that you loved me! That you wanted nothing but happiness for me –‘_

_‘Lyanna stop this’ Rhaegar tried to reassure, this isn’t what he wanted her to think, he had fallen in love with her, Gods only know how far he had fallen, he had never once lied to her, he had simply never told the whole truth; ‘You know I love you –‘_

_‘No!’ she spat viciously, pushing him away as he tried to close the space between them; ‘you love your prophecy, you loved it so much you were willing to risk your family and realm for it!’_

_He’ll never forget watching her in that moment, seeing something in her break that he was unsure he could ever mend. Her eyes hardened, the life that used to burst from them had died and given way to the dark._

_‘Go fulfil your prophesies with someone else Rhaegar’ she told him, though her teary eyes never met his; ‘I cannot do that for you now, even if I wanted to’_

That seemed so long ago now, though time was said to go much slower when sorrow is all that lingers in it. Rhaegar had tried for the weeks following to make amends, to build a bridge and cross half way, but it was near impossible when Lyanna refused to make any effort at all. Against all odds he still had hope that perhaps with time they could move forward from this, start off new with positive outlooks and plans for tomorrow like they had after the tourney in Highgarden.

But then the dreams returned with a vengeance, and the madness took over again

They had not changed, not quite, though it was almost as if he could see more of the picture now. Things were more detailed, more defined and more confusing. He saw new things he could not explain – and one he could;

Jon was always in them now, a man grown strong and true with a stern hardness in the expression of his face. He looked so like a Stark, covered in furs from head to toe, his dark curls falling over his black-grey eyes that were lined with thick dark eyelashes dusted with snow, he was so handsome and so sad, standing on the Wall alone

Sometimes he would see his son with a direwolf trailing behind, his fur so white he blended with the snow though his eyes stuck out like dark pools of blood. Sometimes he saw him with a dragon flying over head, its colourings the exact same as the wolf. Sometimes all Rhaegar would see was the wolf, together in amongst a pack of them. They play fought, they slept and they hunted together – like a family, like the Starks. Rhaegar could almost understand it; he could make sense of it even, Eddard Stark had sired a son after all, with time he may sire many. 

Two wayward direwolves in particular had taken an interest in Rhaegar – though one would say ‘interest’ is not the right word to describe the way they barked and snarled at him through feral teeth, one as silver as the dragon Aegon rode and one as black as the night sky with pale moons for eyes. He wondered if perhaps they represented Rickard and Brandon Stark, for they never seemed to truly join the rest of the pack. 

But the rest of his dreams were all just a blur.

He saw a lion in the snow, who looked perhaps as dead as the Others but did not possess their aura. It roared with a force that shook the Wall, betrayal and despair in the depths of the sound. A red viper would come slithering for the lion, a glow radiating from its blood coloured scales that seemed to melt away the darkness and the Wall would shake and threaten to fall the closer it came. Jon would chase after them into the darkness, a broken look of pain in his eyes as they go further and further north

‘As north as north can be’ Rhaegar heard the wind whisper, as he watched his son run blindly into nothingness

And then – as it had always been from the beginning, he would see a wolf-maiden perched on a mountain, saying; ‘winter is coming’ as though it were nothing but a taunt, as though she hadn’t already ruined him with her grey eyes and wolfish grin.

‘You do not exist!’ Rhaegar would scream at her with every ounce of torment and frustration he could muster; ‘You can never exist! None of this can!’

His only response a howl of laughter; ‘Winter is coming’ she’d repeat with a smirk, surely to infuriate him further; ‘winter is coming’

“Why do you do this to me?” He asked the Gods as he gazed at the moon of yet another sleepless night – though he himself had chosen not to sleep, not to dream, “what did I do to deserve such torment?”

\------------------------

“Your Grace?” the voice of his Lord Commander beckoned from beyond the snowfall that was clouding his reality, “Your Grace”

“Lord Commander” Rhaegar addressed abruptly, trying to make it seem as though he had not been yonder away, though that only seemed to cause more worry to his Kingsguard; “how can I help you?”

“Lady Tyrell, your Grace, she has arrived with the Lord Hand’s audits” the tone of Gerold’s voice sounded questioning, as though he had wondered if Rhaegar was in good health

‘No I’m not’ he wanted to answer; ‘for I have completely lost my mind’

“Forgive me Lord Commander I haven’t had much sleep –“

“I’ve noticed my lord” he grimaced; “we all have, we worry for our King, you have not taken to any bed for three nights –“

“Ser Gerold please” Rhaegar silenced, though he did so affectionately with a smile; “a King deserves no sleep when the people have no peace”

“Of course your Grace, I only worry –“

“I know Gerold, and you have my thanks” Rhaegar didn’t want to talk about his sleeping habits, not now, not with Gerold; “Please if you will, send in Lady Cersei so I may get this over with”

“Yes, my lord”

His Lord Hand had retreated to the Rock two moons past to rally reinforcements for the Tyrell company attempting to breach Dorne – leaving his daughter, Cersei, to attend to his duties in his wake. Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, no more than a boy of nine and ten, had found a mountain shepherd’s path trailing through the ranges leading them to a river, to their survival. Rhaegar had sent thousands of men to their peril trying to breach Dorne, Doran’s forces had seemed to have doubled, if not tripled since declaring independence – Varys spoke rumours of slaves but the idea was simply preposterous to him; Doran had once been his good-brother after all, Rhaegar knew him to be a wise man with a sense of honour tempered by the sun, he wouldn’t dare invest in slaves – though perhaps Oberyn would.

If by some miracle any of his forces managed to even touch dornish soil, it took not one week for Dorne itself to finish them off. The heat, the starvation, the lack of water, the confusing torment of an endless desert – no man who had been fighting for days could withstand such harsh environments too long.

But Willas Tyrell – the blessed boy that he is! He found a way into Dorne which led to a **river**! Gods be good! Rhaegar had almost given up hope of ever making peace with Doran, not one raven had been responded to, no messenger returned, not one for almost four years but now there was hope;

_’Your Grace’ a timid boy had answered Rhaegar’s plea as he rose to his feet, Willas was tall for his age, well built even but he was still just a boy, you could see it in the innocence of his eyes; ‘I could lead a small company –‘_

_‘No you most certainly cannot!’ his grandfather, Lord Hightower of Oldtown had bellowed next to him, standing to his feet to try and stare the boy into submission, though Willas did not budge_

_‘I must insist my King’ he argued, his eyes never leaving his grandfather’s; ‘I believe the lack of communication with forces behind hostile lines had led to the downfall of those who made it through the mountains’_

_Rhaegar had called for Lords of the Reach, Stormlands and Westerlands in the hope to gather men **willing** to make an attempt of restoring peace with Dorne. Oh for sure, many of them lusted for vengeance and blood, they had lost brothers, sons and friends against the snakes in the last few years after all. There were men in the hundreds willing enough to go into Dorne and slaughter every man, woman and child – but none wished for peace, not anymore, no one except Willas;_

_‘I’m listening my Lord’_

_‘Your Grace –‘ His Master of Coin now tried to argue, though Mace Tyrell did not bother rising to his feet. His mother had told him once that Mace had been a handsome man in his youth; Rhaegar could only assume that man was hidden under the weight that constantly kept him in his chair –_

_‘Lord Mace’ Rhaegar interrupted with a slight scowl that was meant to intimidate him – and it did_

_‘Thank you your Grace’ Willas huffed with relief as he puffed up his chest confidently to continue; ‘during this very feast, my lord grandfather and father accredited me to having the best hawking skills in the land’ shooting said men a look of defiance as he said so – they had in fact been gloating about him all night; ‘although I could be bias, I must agree’_

_Rhaegar had to smile at that, Willas was young but he seemed studious enough, so willing to make more of a man of himself by conquering the unconquered Dorne and yet still such a green boy – all of this mattered not though, for he was the only choice Rhaegar had left_

_‘What do you propose my lord?’_

And just like that Rhaegar had earned the contempt of the Reach. Willas had suggested sending a small company through the marches narrow rock paths that formed a natural maze – a **dangerous** natural maze. Tywin had backed his good-son almost eagerly, offering as many men for the cause as necessary but Mace and Leyton had felt slighted, as though he had undoubtedly given Willas to the Stranger personally, but Rhaegar was willing to risk it, this one last time – if need be necessary he could repay them with a Tyrell Queen.

It had been worth it in the end, not two weeks ago had a hawk arrived in Highgarden declaring their success – though they seemed to have disappeared since. Rhaegar needed to get as many men through that passage before the dornish noticed their small path of infiltration, he knew if he could just get to Doran, plead his case, they could establish peace terms between them – surely?

“Your Grace” the soft voice of Lady Cersei Tyrell addressed as she curtsied elegantly at the doorway

“Please my lady, take a seat” he said as he gestured to the chair across his desk

“The audits my King” she offered, placing a thick pile of parchments on his desk as she took her seat; “My lord father had written to have me update them, a fortnight can see much changes in the economy”

“Thank you for your diligence, my lady” he smiled, though it faded quickly as his eyes scrolled down the first parchment. The debt was endless, the stress was endless, the burden was endless, and Rhaegar could do nothing but sigh in resignation –

“Pray forgive me if I seem intrusive, your Grace” Cersei murmured, her eyes staring at him so empathetically – empathy, not sympathy or pity, but understanding and acceptance. Gods he had missed the feeling of being understood, how he had wished for someone to try and see his logic; “I know your burdens are great and many but with the aid of our Queen –“

“Pfff” he snorted though he had not meant to snort, in fact Rhaegar Targaryen couldn’t remember a time when he had ever snorted before, but to imply _Lyanna_ would actually help him was more than absurd, but the look of startled confusion on Cersei’s face quickly reminded him of his manners; “Forgive me, my lady, our Queen is – is best left undisturbed”

A wicked spark flashed in the green of her eyes though her expression remained ‘concerned’, if he had not been looking at her so intensely he might not have noticed how familiar it was. Why was he looking at her so intensely? Rhaegar wondered if perhaps he shared something with Cersei like his mother had with hers, an affinity built on respect that grew into deep admiration – though he chose to forget the attraction his father had to the late Lady Lannister.

“Her Grace has suffered much as of late” Cersei said reassuringly though Rhaegar could tell she had more to say, he had always been able to read the lady lion. Even when she was a young maid brought to court just before his betrothal to Elia was announced, something about Cersei had caught his attention. Oh for sure most men would say so, she had the curvaceous body men found alluring despite themselves and she was beautiful in a way that his Lyanna never could be, but that wasn’t what drew Rhaegar to her, it was something else, something deeper, something more –

“But my King suffers also” she added in a purr as she reached across the table to rest her hand over his. Cersei had always done such things, even when Elia was still alive, though back then he had swiftly pulled his arm away fearful of the void it might create but now – Lyanna wouldn’t care, Lyanna had no interest in him or the affection he sought. 

“There is something familiar about you Lady Cersei” he mumbled, not really meaning to say anything aloud

“Familiar, your Grace?” She questioned, seeming suddenly unsure of herself and yet not removing her hand, instead, she chose to stroke the back of his soothingly. Such contact should have been alarming really, it was inappropriate was it not? But Rhaegar couldn’t truly bring himself to care, not when this was perhaps the first time he had felt such a connection since the original Red Keep went up in flames

“Aye, though I cannot quite tell you what it is. I have always felt a pull of sorts to you –“

“A pull, your Grace?” Cersei mused, a quick twitch of teasing challenge in the curl of her lips. Elia had always been so witty and endearingly funny, it was what had Rhaegar falling in love with her at some points in their time together. This wasn’t the same though, the raw, sexual attraction isn’t present with Cersei – for as alluring as she is nothing is quite as hypnotizing as a golden sun serpent –

Bar perhaps a wilful, wild, wolf

“Aye” Rhaegar answered through an ever present melancholic smile, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of his lost loves much longer; “a bond of sorts, your lady mother was a very good friend of mine own, Lady Cersei, were you aware?”

“Of course, your Grace” she affirmed enthusiastically though her eyes seemed to dim some what with disappointment; “my lady mother used to tell Jaime and I tales of the adventures they had when we were children”

“Adventures?” Rhaegar chuckled, unable to imagine his lady mother doing much outside of sewing, reading, singing and praying. The words ‘adventure’ and ‘Rhaella Targaryen’, were not heard often in the same sentence.

“I speak it true, your Grace, I swear it” she giggled, holding her hand over her heart and feigning a look of hurt

“Tell me then, Lady Cersei, what ‘adventures’ did our mothers endeavour upon” he teased, feeling the sadness in him slip long enough to truly smile. He had listened intently well on into the day, laughing at child minded pet names given to each character; ‘Ella the Dragon Princess’, ‘Lori the Queen of the Sun’ and ‘Joan of the Rock’ their champion and lion-knight. According to the late Lady Joanna, the three were quite mischievous and righteous indeed. Cersei told a story of his mother dressed as a septa to escape the evil eyes of court; where she met a holy knight who stole her heart.

Rhaegar had almost cried at that, he knew well enough of his mother’s desire to be wed to Bonifer Hasty, the two at one stage seemed to have been a possibility despite Hasty’s low rank. Aegon the fifth had apparently loved Rhaella like he did no one else, something his mother had often compared to himself and Rhaenys – and in her darker states, his father and Rhaenys. When Rhaella had asked to wed beneath her station the late King Aegon had submitted – though once he was told of the prophecy he had all but pushed his grandchildren to wed himself

How curious it was that all Targaryens seemed so taken by the promise of a prince

“Would you like to hear a story, Lady Cersei?” he asked her once her own tales had faded. They had taken to sitting at the large bay window that had the greatest view of King’s Landing the architect could manage to provide. He sat peeling blood oranges, watching the skies change from blue to orange to purple as the sun set. 

For once Rhaegar’s melancholy made way for peace and nostalgia; it must be almost five years since the last time he had done this, listened to a girl weave tales of history and magic and watched the sun set with her as they ate blood oranges;

_’Your turn papa’ Rhaenys had insisted, though her mouth was full of fruit; ‘your turn’_

_‘A lady must not speak with her mouth full’ he gently chastened but his daughter had such a teasing nature she only ever grinned at him wickedly – Rhaegar supposed she could tell that her papa would never even dream of punishing her_

_‘Rhaenys not a lady, Rhaenys is a princess’ she smirked_

_Though she was mocking him Rhaegar could do nothing but laugh with her in her happiness, so helpless he was to the power his daughter had over him_

_‘Rhaenys is **my** princess’ he declared as he threw her into the air and caught her in the safety of his embrace; ‘she will always be my princess’_

_Rhaegar had been so daunted by the fact that some day, some vile little creature would wed and bed his baby and claim her for his own, taking her from her papa forever. He had contemplated a hundred ways to diverge her fate so her future held no such outcome, perhaps she could be devout? She could wish to be a septa or at worst perhaps a silent sister? It was not as though it was unheard of_

_‘Unreasonably protective fatherly instincts’ Elia had called them, dismissing his suggestions with a roll of her eyes; ‘you can’t keep her happy with stories and songs forever Rhaegar’_

_‘You don’t know that’ he had accused but Elia only laughed at him as though he was being foolish. Looking back on it now, it had been foolish – anything would be better than the alternative he now faces_

_‘Tell your princess a story then’ Rhaenys commanded him cheekily with delight as she discarded the remnants of fruit to nestle into his lap. He had chuckled at the way she had learnt to ‘command’, nose in the air and shoulders back, ‘like Nana’ she had told him. Rhaegar didn’t bother to tell her that she need not ‘command’ him, his sweet daughter need only whimper and he would move mountains to please her – he could only pray she knew that now_

_‘Once upon a time’ he’d begin, the same as he always had; ‘there was a sweet, summer princess, as golden as the sun –‘_

The touch of a soft finger gently brushing away a trail of tears swiftly drew him back to the present, though the familiarity of it left him lingering in the past. Cersei Lannister was looking at him so affectionately that for a moment he swore he saw his mother

“Forgive me my lady” he mustered, holding her hand in his own to return the gesture – though apart of him only did it to permit her from touching him so

‘Willas Tyrell leads a crusade for you and you repay him by lusting after his wife, the mother of his son!’ his inner demons would accuse

‘It is not lust! It is more than that it’s – it’s, some kind of familiar attraction’

‘That’s what you said about the wolf girl and look how that ended up’

‘This is nothing like Lyanna!’ he’d spat in his defence, angry and irritated that he was mad enough to be arguing so with himself

‘The dragon has three heads’ dark whispers would remind him, as though he needed any such reminding; ‘the dragon has three heads’

“Let me tell you a story” he managed after feigning a smile that seemed to diminish the worry that was etched in her expression. So sweet it was to have someone worry for you so, Gods how he missed this feeling – a feeling so akin to family

“If it please you, your Grace”

“It had once been foretold that a winter would come, one that threatened to encase the world and know no end” he begun his tale, so much differently to the beginning of stories he wished to tell; “but the Gods had promised the world a champion, a Prince made of ice and fire who would conquer the cold and darkness with his blazing sword of annihilation and lead humanity through the ice age that had stricken them”

“Could this ‘prince’ be you by chance, your Grace? I know no greater champion in all the land” Rhaegar smiled at her praise even though it was empty now, his left arm had still not healed from his battle with Robert on the Trident, the maester had told him perhaps it never truly would. His beloved harp had done nothing in the last years but collect dust and the poems he had taken to writing in his times of grief did not flow so easily through a broken hand – something in his soul had died because of it

“I had once thought so myself” he laughed, though this time it was not at her teasing but at his own young ego and pride; “now I cannot say for sure what I think, perhaps my Jon could be our champion but then again the Gods have been cruel before”

“Prince Jon could quite possibly be this prince you speak of, he is ice and fire, as you say” Cersei tried to reassure as she squeezed at his hands in a comforting gesture though her tone was more curt. She was suddenly much closer than he had realised, Rhaegar was so lost in his world of sorrows that he’d hardly noticed how he had all but pulled her into him –

“How lovely” a sarcastic drawl called from the doorway; “If I had known you were telling stories I would have come sooner” Arthur spat, staring at the two as though he had just caught them desecrating the Great Sept; “has he already told the part about the dragon needing three heads?” His Kingsguard mocked cruelly, making his way into the light so the white of his armour was luminescent in the dark of Rhaegar’s study

“How dare you speak so to your sworn King, Ser” Cersei snapped in his defence, the honesty of her devotion to him shining through the fierce green of her eyes, almost unarming Arthur with a single look but Rhaegar stilled her as he rose to his feet;

“The support and kindness you have shown me this day shall not be forgotten Lady Cersei” he offered, bowing over her hand to place a chaste kiss to the back of it, ignoring the sound of Arthur’s snort – at least in Lady Tyrell’s presence

“You are my King” she replied with a low curtsey; “I only hope to serve you pleasingly”

Cersei had swiftly but gracefully left his study then, though Rhaegar had waited until he could no longer hear the echo of her footsteps down the corridor to unleash his indignant fury;

“Have you lost yourself in your cups again Arthur!? Did I not forbid you from imbibing –“

“Gods save it Rhaegar, do not act as though I am the one in the wrong here!”

“You have misunderstood –“

“Have I?” Arthur scoffed with an angry scowl; “Have you not spent from morning till night in the _privacy_ of you own _personal_ study, alone with Lady Cersei _Tyrell_?”

Had he? Despite the dark sarcasm of Arthur’s statement, is what he suggested true? Had he spent all day with Cersei?

“I – it was not – I never –“

“So you cannot deny it?”

“What you suggest was not my intention Ser, not all of us lust after married women –“

“Fuck off” Arthur hissed though the sound was deep and threatening; “you can’t throw that in my face now”

“And why not eh? Is it not true that there were perhaps dozens of times when you were alone in private with my wife? Dozens of times where it was crafted to be so –“

“Elia had more virtue than that, the same cannot be said about the Lady Cersei though it seems –“

“You will not speak of the lady so Ser, she has done nothing to deserve your ire”

“So defensive of your mistress are you?”

“Mistress?“ he baffled in confusion. How had it come to this so suddenly? ‘Mistress’ was not the word he would use to describe his attraction to the flower lion, though Arthur hardly gave him a chance to say as such

“Well what else do you call _this_ Rhaegar?” his Kingsguard asked incredulously as he gestured in the direction of the cushioned bay window he and Cersei had been found mere moments ago

“We were just telling stories” he sighed in resignation; “I used to tell Rhaenys stories just like this”

Rhaegar had been waiting for another fiery comeback that the dornish were so good at, perhaps a ‘Your daughter did not have teats’, or ‘Rhaenys was not so willing to serve you pleasingly’ but instead he heard Arthur echo his sigh of defeat as he sat where Cersei had just been;

“She is not Rhaenys, my friend, how you even managed to find a comparison is beyond my understanding”

“There is something there Arthur” he tried to reason as he took his seat again, finding the hope in Arthur’s new found calmness to try and persuade him to see that Rhaegar’s actions had no ill intention; “something so very –“

“Familiar?” Arthur finished with a cock of his brow; “Don’t be so surprised Rhaegar, I’ve heard this all before”

Rhaegar knew he was blushing despite himself; the memory of Arthur stumbling upon his letters to Lyanna still reddened him with shame;

‘You have no honour’ Arthur, his best friend, a brother in all but blood had _spat_ at him that day; ‘your vow has no worth and your loyalty is non-existent, you are unworthy of those vowed to you Rhaegar Targaryen, unworthy of the position you hold’

“This is not the same Arthur –“he tried to reassure but Arthur would have none of it

“No it will not be, your Grace, for this time I shall not guide you into the darkness” the haunted dark lavender of Arthur’s eyes seemed to bore into Rhaegar’s soul as he spoke; “I will not let you lead us into war for yet another woman and I will not stand guard as you leave another family shamed in your absence”

“And I would never ask it of you, not again –“

“Then for Gods sake Rhaegar, stop this madness now! You do not eat, you do not sleep –“

“How can I?” Rhaegar grunted in annoyance; “How am I meant to sleep with all that plagues me in my dreams? How am I meant to eat when there is nothing but starvation and snow every where I look –“

“Rhaegar, what are you –“

“What am I talking about you will ask?” He interrupted knowingly, something dark calling in the depths of his mind;

‘They all think you’re mad!’ dark voices in his mind would cackle at him, the sound so reminiscent to his father

“I am not mad!” Rhaegar hissed at the shadows, shocking both himself and Arthur into silence. What the hells was happening to him? He was surely beginning to fall into the dark abyss of insanity from where there is no return?

“You need sleep Rhaegar” Arthur suggested as he rested his hand firmly on Rhaegar’s right shoulder; “no man can keep his sanity when the mind has no rest”

“I mustn’t –“

“Yes, Rhaegar, you must” Arthur interjected sternly as he held him now by both shoulders, looking into his eyes that were slowly beginning to cloud with the visions of mist and snow; “perhaps it was this lack of sleep that pushed you to find whatever solace you did in Lady Tyrell, I know for sure with a clear head you would not be so careless –“

“What is it about the lady that makes you assume I would forget myself Arthur?” Rhaegar questioned, genuinely curious in what others see in their acquaintance

“She throws herself at you so blatantly, flaunting herself in her revealing gowns of elaborate silks –“

“I think red is quite becoming of her actually –“

“You see!” Arthur cried in accusation; “You defend her, without even meaning to, without even knowing you are. Why would you do that?”

“I – well I don’t exactly know” he stammered unable to conjure an answer from his mind; “it’s simply instinctive, I do not like to hear ill words of a lady –“

“There’s something more than that” Arthur mumbled with a furrow of his brow, though he seemed to be talking to himself rather than Rhaegar

“And what is that something exactly, Ser Arthur?” Rhaegar taunted, relishing in the way the knight struggled to find the words for it

‘You see!’ Rhaegar wished to mock, but chose to simply smile to himself as the event played out in his imagination; ‘not so easy to find words now is it’

“There is something about the two of you that has always seemed to just – match? Though I doubt Cersei _Lannister_ would ever know the honour you do” Arthur glared at him then as though he were challenging Rhaegar to defend her but he wouldn’t give Arthur the leverage – not knowingly

“It has always been so, Ash used to hate Cersei something fierce because of it, I think it was part of the reason she hated you too” Arthur chuckled though his eyes looked too mournful for laughter to truly have meaning

“Your sister was not –“

“Watch yourself Targaryen” Arthur warned, though he did so with a slight smirk; “that’s my lady sister you speak of”

“I have only kind things to say about the _lady_ I assure you” Rhaegar japed sarcastically, earning him a deep chortle in response;

“Oh I’m sure your Grace” he drawled sarcastically; “though in some ways I can agree with some of the things you dislike in Ashara, someone like you would never know the blind love a man has for his only sister”

“I suppose not, Arthur” Rhaegar yawned, the dreadful cold creep of his fabricated winter lulling him into a numb and haunted sleep, one he wished to evade for all eternity if he could

“You should rest Rhaegar” Arthur insisted once again, the yawn that betrayed him no doubt reminded his guard of the sleep deprivation Rhaegar was forcing himself to endure

“No – there is too much to be done – too much to organise –“

“It can all be done on the morrow, Gerold says tonight shall be the fourth you have found no sleep if you stay cooped up in this room. I assure you, my friend, with no sleep tonight you shall be truly mad by the morrow”

“I have barely done anything tiring Arthur” he tried to justify, though the arch of Arthur’s brow told him there was truly no point, Rhaegar tried anyway – he always did; “surely a man can go without sleep for moons when he has had little to no physical –“

“No Rhaegar a man can barely endure a week, Gerold would know, he’s spoken to the maester himself –“

“My Lord Commander seems to have looked into this quite extensively” he grunted with a hit of irritation

“You’re not the only one who suffers sleepless nights” Arthur sighed, leaning against one of the glass panes as his fingers absentmindedly tore at the orange skins that still littered the bench; “Gerold refuses to drink now for fear it will draw out the suicidal tendencies in him again –“

“What?” Rhaegar gasped in horror, his Lord Commander had thought to take his own life? Worse even, he had attempted it? Why had Rhaegar not been made aware of his guard’s suffering?

“You are not the only one who suffers night terrors and guilt my friend” Arthur said with a nonchalant shrug; “Ser Gerold has plagued himself with sins of his own since his arrival at the tower in Dorne. Something happened here that Gerold cannot forgive himself for, so he avoids the dreams that remind him of it. Sound familiar?”

Rhaegar nodded in understanding though he was still frowning at the fact that no one had told him of this sooner, Gerold was very close to him, he had been a father of sorts in the absence of Rhaegar’s own – though it was never space that separated him from Aerys but realities. It hurt him to know the man who had guarded him all his life had been suffering and Rhaegar was completely ignorant of it.

“We drugged him in the end you know” Arthur stated matter-of-factly, as though such an act was not a mild form of poisoning “put him to sleep with more dream wine than a mammoth could handle. I’m told Jon Connington did much the same with you, though I cannot say I am not tempted to do the same, albeit not with the same desires as I’m sure the faithful Lord Connington had –“

“And what exactly, does that mean Arthur Dayne?”

“No, nothing” Arthur chuckled with a shake of his head; “we learn not to judge in Dorne, men are entitled to their preferences –“

“Oh fuck you Arthur” Rhaegar cursed, nudging his friend in the side to emphasise the point, though the thick built bastard hardly seemed to notice; “it is not that way with Jon and I”

“Perhaps not in your eyes, though it seems you are indeed blinded to the true nature of the affection others give you, lionesses and griffins alike”

Arthur had only chortled as Rhaegar pushed him to the floor in disdain, prick had no right to be so funny when he was making such indecent accusations but Rhaegar supposed that was what made Arthur his best friend, his brother. Their uncanny resemblance aided in his fantasy of having an equal, a brother of his own age, the Orys to his Aegon.

‘He would betray you for a princess with the ambitions to be a queen’ the shadows seemed to whisper to him suddenly, as though to poison any hope of happiness he could find

“Just shut up” he growled, quickly regretting the words he had never meant to say aloud as Arthur’s smile quickly fell into a frown of confusion

“Rhaegar –”

“I’m fine” he snapped though that seemed to do him no favours; “truly, I’m fine” he repeated more calmly

“I should take you to a bed –“

“Don’t!” he commanded, tearing his arm away from Arthur as he tried to assist him to his feet; “I do not wish to sleep, I do not wish to dream”

“If it is only dreams you fear Rhaegar than I must implore you to endure them” Arthur began to beg; “you have been in and out of these half mad states for moons. Depriving yourself of sleep is like taking away your own sanity –“

“These dreams are insanity Arthur I do not know how I can make you understand –“

“I do not need to understand, Rhaegar, all I need is for you to sleep despite the horrors you may see –“

“But Arthur it is not so simple –“

“It is Rhaegar, it is that simple” Arthur snapped obviously as tired of this banter as Rhaegar was; “this insomnia you suffer will only lure you into lunacy, Gerold has told me of recent times he has witnessed lapses in your focus, he said there were times when you would seem to talk to yourself, talk to the shadows, like –“

“Like what, Arthur?” Rhaegar asked, though he knew inside himself he did not need to

‘Like your father’ his demons would cackle at him when Arthur couldn’t seem to finish his own statement

“Please Rhaegar” Arthur pleaded instead, worry and confusion deep in the crevice of his brow; “do not go too far into the darkness, least you go somewhere we cannot retrieve you from”

Rhaegar wished to object, he was the King after all, and his say was final when all was said and done but he feared becoming a man like his father more than the coming of winter, that much Rhaegar had always been certain of. The fact that his most trusted guards were having such doubts in him urged him to see their reason

‘You do need sleep’ he tried to tell himself, as if it wasn’t a sign of his growing madness talking to yourself so

‘If you sleep you dream’ his darker self would taunt back

“A dream cannot kill you Rhaegar” Arthur continued to persuade him lessening the effect the shadows’ words had over him; “as painful as they are my King, endure them, for your health, for your sanity, you must endure them”

‘You will not become your father’ Rhaegar began chanting to himself, like he had since the first time he had witnessed his father’s cruelty when he were but a boy of seven; “you will not become your father’

“Come my friend” Arthur murmured sympathetically, the sound pulling at the strings of Rhaegar’s crumbling heart; “let me help you”

Rhaegar only nodded as Arthur helped him to his feet, he felt dizzy and nauseous once he’d reached his full height, swaying enough to encourage Arthur to manoeuvre into his side, pressing his shoulder firmly into Rhaegar’s armpit and throwing his flailing arm over the exposed shoulder so Arthur could all but carry him to the near by chamber

‘Winter is coming’ the winds would whisper as they seemed to whip past him with a speed he doubted they truly possessed. Arthur couldn’t hear it after all; his solemn, worrisome face only looked determined in his course of action, completely oblivious to the depth of snow Rhaegar felt as though they were trudging through

“Please –“he whimpered in a moment of weakness, not truly knowing who he was speaking to; “I cannot take such madness any longer”

“I know my friend, I know”

‘Then why do you keep taking me into the darkness!’ he wanted to scream, though he was too weak now to conjure such an effort

“Please –“he managed in a whisper

‘A dragon can conquer anything with their fire and their blood’ his mother’s soothing voice would beckon from a glorious light, so warm and calming, like a Queen preparing her champion for battle ‘find them my son, find your fire and blood’

“Where –“he murmured weakly

“These are guest chambers, your Grace” Arthur answered the question not meant for him, unaware that he made no sense now that Rhaegar’s reality was blurred with the numbing frost; “they are not your own –“ pausing to hoist him onto the bed, a doom of silk and feathers; “but they will suffice”

‘The dragon has three heads’ his mother beckoned again, giving no answers but leading to more questions; ‘the dragon has three’

“Rest my friend” Arthur lulled as he looked down at him with so much pity in his eyes it broke Rhaegar's will to fight it any longer; “I will help you find your answers, I will not let you succumb to madness, not again –“

Arthur’s voice seemed to slowly drift off as the glowing white image of him faded away into the snow, the bed that held him in reality, slipped away into empty nothingness as sleep swiftly claimed him

It started as it always did with the trail of giggles calling him to his princess – though this time it was much more violent, much more intense

 **’The dragon _has_ three heads!’** he remembered the shadows cackling as he descended into darkness; **'the dragon has three'**


	19. Ygritte I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was entertaining, annoying because it was hard to try an mimic how a _true_ northern accent should be spelt but fun none the less
> 
> Sorry for the editing and lack of updates, I have no excuses but pure laziness and the inability to properly wield the english language - but hey, I try :/
> 
> Comments and reviews appreciated, I like to see people take a guess as to where this is going :)  
> Thanks for reading

Ygritte Nymeros Martell – 286 AL the Water Gardens, Dorne

It isn’t so bad ‘ere ya know, aye, if it weren’t for the burning heat of the sun one could love this southern land they call Dawn – or is it Dorne? Ya can’t bloody tell with all these words the southerners use in their fancy tongue that’s too difficult to understand if ya don’t waste yer childhood reading these damn books –

Books had to be the worst thing about this place, even the middle of the desert was more tolerable than these cursed things filled with words, but Doran insisted upon it, like he insists upon a lot of things;

_’You are more useful to me learned than lame’ Doran had told her sternly, as though he had the right to just tell her what to do; ‘you will read and you will learn’_

_‘Ya can’t just tell **me** what to do, I ain’t one of your kneelers southern king –‘_

_‘Then please my lady’ he sighed with an indifferent shrug; ‘do not let me stop you from leaving my lands’_

_There was a slight smile at the corner of his lips; the cheeky cunt thought he had her ensnared but Ygritte ain’t one to just be stolen –_

_‘I am a free woman’ she barked, even as she snatched a book from his oversized stone table_

_‘You are a free woman **of Dorne** ’ he corrected as she stormed from the room, for that’s all the bastard was good for, correcting people and making them look like fools, it was something she hated about the man she learned to call ‘brother’ – but something she learned to love even more_

But that’s the most exciting thing about the south really; the opportunities to learn and grow are endless. A man can build a home as tall as mountains and a woman can make cloth, as thick as the fur of a mammoth, and with only the string of worms, **worms** for fucks sake! Can ya believe it?

If Ygritte hadn’t watched an old crone weave a tapestry of silk from the thread in a worm herself, she would have laughed at ya for making up such things – but it’s the sworn truth! The prettiest dresses ya can find come from them silk worms ya know, Arianne and Nym had told her as much on one of the shopping trips Mel organizes for Dorne’s ‘princesses’ – secretly Ygritte loved shopping, but she’d tear her own tongue out before ever admitting so to Mel.

It’s like a bloody dream come true though ain’t it? Just going down to the markets whenever ya damn well please, where you can swap some useless gold coin for food and drink, warmth and shelter, anything you can bloody think of is yours for a gold coin ya won’t ever miss, and why would ya? It don’t do nothing outside of them markets, ya can’t hunt with it – though ya might get lucky enough to kill a bird with it if yer aim were true enough, ya probably couldn’t start a fire with it, it weren’t all that pretty truly – if such a thing were ever deemed useful, so by northern standards – and by northern she means _true_ north, not the fake one the Stark claims, a gold coin would be of little use

But this was not north as north could be, nay, this was south as south could go, where summer lasted an eternity and the sun reigned over all beasts with the soothing warmth that kept them alive.

She rejoiced in that fact more times than not, to be away from the winter, the cold – the others, it was more relieving than taking a long piss after waking from a night of good fucking, but truth be told she missed her home. There was something truly magical in the north, to see the miracle in such simple things as a fish swimming in a river, and truly appreciating it for all it’s worth – it was more beautiful than she knew how to describe

If it weren’t for that evil old man – too old to still be living in the eyes of the north, the fallen crow he brought with him and those cursed twins of chaos and madness, she would still be far north with her clan;

_‘Cravens! I won’t let you just steal me!’ she screamed and threatened, kicking with all her might at the man that had her by the feet and clawing at the arms of the one who had held her under her pits – at least as best as she could_

_‘Hold still woman’ the cocky one closest to her head grunted; ‘unless ya wish for us to knock ya out again’_

_‘Try it!’ she snapped as she fought harder against them still; ‘you cravens have lost yer element of surprise, I won’t be –‘_

_‘Just shut up woman!’ the solemn one at her feet roared, he hadn’t said much until then, in truth, he hadn’t said anything before this outburst at all. He and his brother had simply knocked Ygritte out and stolen her while she was collecting water off the stream with Dalla_

_‘Calm yerself Saxson, no one likes ya when yer angry brother’_

_Ygritte felt her feet fall promptly to the snow at that; as the solemn twin turned to snap at his other half_

_‘I would be more calm if she was more calm, if she was more calm we could all be more calm and then perhaps we could find this old fucking man the tree speaks of –‘_

_‘Breathe Sax, just breath –‘_

_‘Ah fuck off Jax I don’t need yer mocking, this is all yer fault!’_

_‘My fault?!’ the cocky twin suddenly growled, Ygritte’s head dropping to the snow with a thud as she felt herself being completely discarded to the ground_

_‘The fuck is wrong with yas?’ Ygritte hissed as she tried to find her footing but her ankles and wrists had been bound with rope long ago and something had been tied around her head to blind her. They had only told her to; ‘fuck up’ in unison as they continued their battle against each other_

_‘Aye Jax, yer fault, you were the one that said, come on Sax let’s listen to a tree and go on an adventure, what we got to lose –‘_

_‘You were the one that led us to that cave because some three eyed crow was talking to ya in yer dreams Saxson –‘_

_‘And you were the one that killed our clan by letting one of the dead follow ya home!’_

_Ygritte couldn’t make much out after that, she heard a shrill battle cry and then the sound of men trying to strangle the life from each other, if she were in any other situation she probably would have laughed at the fools, two men stealing a woman and then paying no attention to her cause they’re too busy touching each other. It were a joke but one that wasn’t very fuckin’ funny right now;_

_‘The two of ya have been fuckin’ touched’ Ygritte swore at them as she struggled to remove the blindfold with her shoulder; ‘just let me go so ya can go back to playin’ with each other’_

_‘You ain’t going nowhere’ an angry growl suddenly grumbled in her ear as she was picked up and thrown over his shoulder. If Ygritte weren’t bound she’d kill the cunt for doing this to her, the moment they let down their defences she was going t’ kill ‘em anyhow._

_‘Be easy on her Sax, it ain’t her fault –‘_

_‘Nay!’ the brother the other called Sax snapped, he definitely had something stuck in his arse that one; ‘this is yer fault, Jax’_

_‘You think I don’t know that Saxson? Do you think I forgot how that thing found our home? Do you think I wanted them to –‘_

_‘Oh can you two lovers just shut up!’ Ygritte groaned; ‘Jax take this fuckin’ thing off my face’ she commanded the one she knew was trailing behind them_

_‘How do you know my –‘_

_‘All the fuckin’ North know yer names, ya only been screaming them all fuckin’ night!’ she snapped knowing that the thick bastard was too much a fool to put two and two together alone._

_They stilled then, she could tell by the way the one carrying had stopped moving and the snow was no longer crunching underfoot. The wind rushed at them from almost all directions – as though they stood out in the open._

_Ygritte panicked trying to hone her sense of hearing to listen for the streams, the creaking of a solid lake, anything but the endless wasteland of snow;_

_‘Where the fuck are we?’ she cursed after failing to hear anything, fearing that these bastards had taken her somewhere without running water, food even_

_‘We’re almost to the Wall’ Jax told her nonchalantly as if he didn’t just say ‘Oh, we just arrived at our deaths’_

_‘What!’ she hissed, though not much louder than a whisper; ‘you lot are fuckin’ mad! Them crows probably heard you two comin’ from where ever the fuck ya crawled out from!’_

_‘Breathe woman, just breathe –‘_

_‘Fuck off! If you two are so determined to die, do it without me –‘_

_‘Just shut up before the crows hear you’ Sax – the one carrying her, murmured solemnly_

_She had no other choice really, she still couldn’t see, she was bound, she was without weapons and yet still, freedom is worth fighting for_

_‘Stop yer squirming –‘_

_‘Never!’ she declared in quiet sternness, ‘Put me down and untie me!’_

_‘You want down?’ Sax huffed sarcastically, ‘Fine’ he punctuated by letting her just fall at his feet, ‘don’t move or I’ll cut ya’_

_Ygritte thought to snap at the possible threat but quickly hushed herself as she felt him cutting at her restraints. Her wrists had been bound behind her back for hours now, and the fact that she had been struggling the whole time did her no good. Most free women would just accept their capture by the night but Ygritte weren’t most free woman, she didn’t want no man, she wanted to be free forever –_

_But life changes; yer understanding of the world changes_

_Saxson ripped the blindfold off her while she were still on her knees, the bright white snow burned her eyes for a moment before Ygritte could truly take focus. A long battered sword was held at her throat by the one she assumed had been carrying her._

_Saxson were actually quite pretty if you could get past the fact that his expression was cold as stone. His eyes were the yellow of feral wolves and his hair was a pale gold like Dalla’s; that spun down past his shoulders,_

_‘The tree told us to take you’ he informed her solemnly; ‘if it were my decision, I’d leave ya here for the others’_

_‘But you’re comin’ with us t’ find the old man’ the one called Jax harped in. He were **much** prettier than his brother, even though their features could be said to be the exact same. Jax had a softer face though he stood over his brother like a mountain, he was intimidating to look at but so was a thick enough tree –_

_‘I don’t know what the fuck you two are on with ya talkin’ trees and ya old men, didn’t no one ever tell yas not to eat the blue mushrooms?’_

_‘You’ve got somethin’ t’ say ‘bout everythin’ don’t ya?’ Jax laughed even though his brother only glared at her as he pushed the blade harder into her flesh_

_‘We’re going to find the old man and his fallen crow’ Saxson told her, like she had no other choice; ‘he’s taking us beyond that Wall as south as south can go’ the sword twisting slightly deeper into her throat as he continued; ‘you won’t get in the way of that, nothing will’_

_‘I won’t get in yer way, if you want t’ go off over that Wall, go ahead, try it, but I ain’t going with ya –‘_

_‘Oh yes ya are’ Jax smirked, looking down on her like she were less than them, like they weren’t as fucked as she was right now, she hated the cocky prick no matter how pretty he was; ‘the tree said we have to take living fire of the north to the old man, he said without ya we won’t be lucky enough to find him’_

_‘So run woman’ Saxson interrupted impatiently, stroking his temples as though all of this was causing him pain; ‘run to the old man before I kill you’_

_His eyes were blank and empty and his voice was so cold Ygritte thought there might be something to their madness after all – though that only lasted a mere moment. She was on her feet faster than her ankles could bear, but she paid them no mind as she scrambled to find her footing, running to a near by mountain of snow as fast as she could go._

_Ygritte was swift for her size she knew, no one in all her clan had ever caught her before and once she had even managed to escape a shadowcat using the mountains and ice to her advantage._

_She took caution making her way up the huge dune of snow – least a crow that’s perched near by see the flames of her bright hair, though she kept as much momentum as possible, she wasn’t goin’ t’ be caught by them fools again, not if she could help it_

_Upon reaching the top Ygritte could see nothing but a sea of snow and a wall that touched the heavens. Never once had she wondered far enough south to see the wall herself but she had heard enough times from the men who returned with the black furs of crows. There are no words to describe it truly, the wall is the mightiest beast of ice and stone one could ever imagine, to be so close to it was almost overwhelming –_

_‘Yer a lot faster than I thought woman’ Jax howled beneath her as he slowly made his way up the dune, smirk still spread across his face; ‘but ya want t’ be much faster if you’re going t’ get away from Saxson’_

_The other one was gone she suddenly realised, not noticing he was right behind her until she had all but run right into him_

_‘Boo’ he murmured against her as she screamed in shock, stumbling backwards and rolling down the other side of the dune – and for yer information nothing’s wrong with a woman screaming every now and again, it don’t mean nothing other than they know fear, and if you don’t know fear, you don’t know nothing._

_Ygritte felt herself being tumbled about by the power of her down hill speed, until she realised she was falling into a deep crevice of ice and rock_

_**Thud** _

_‘Good one Saxson, ya bloody killed her –’_

_‘Well how were I meant to know she was clumsy enough to fall!’_

_‘Uhhh’ Ygritte groaned though she weren’t sure if it were from the pain of falling or the pain of hearing their voices again. She tried to get herself together before they could get to her but Ygritte could see Jax scaling down the ice walls with Saxson not far behind, the sound of pickaxes piercing into the ice as they descended echoing through the cavern she’d fell in._

_‘You are a lucky one’ Jax chuckled through a wide grin as he peered down at her, sprawled out on her back; ‘most don’t survive falls like that in one piece’_

_‘I ain’t most’_

_‘No you ain’t’ Saxson’s voice cut in sharply; ‘most aren’t stupid enough to fall’_

_‘Fuck you –‘ she started swearing but Jax had quickly covered her mouth and hushed her with a ‘shh’_

_Someone was coming –_

_‘Hello?’ An old voice beckoned, scaring her with a new thought that maybe these bastards weren’t so thick after all, ‘We mean no harm to anyone, we are unarmed and one of us is injured’ they continued as their voice became louder with the closing distance. He started ramblin’ on in the common tongue the southerners are so accustomed to and then again in another tongue though this one was more sung than spoken_

_‘Who goes there?’ Saxson called cautiously, withdrawing his long broad sword from its scabbard_

_‘My name is Mordecai’ the old man answered merrily emerging slowly out of the shadows ‘I am a traveller of the east seeking that which is lost, and this’ he said with a smile, gesturing to the man in black he seemed to be half supporting; ‘is Mance Rayder, a lost ranger in search of purpose and answers’_

_Ygritte should’ve known never to trust the rotten old man, northern superstition had taught her to be weary of the old and this Mordecai had seen more years than anyone she had ever known of, but then it wasn’t up to her apparently, the brothers had made the decision to go with him long before they stole her, and whether or not she wanted to, they were going to take her with them_

_‘A good luck charm’ Mordecai had smilingly said to her as they went further south, as though she would find reassurance in his crystal blue eyes, too much like the others; ‘just in case’ he’d added with a wink_

_The wall was far less of a feat to conquer than she had ever expected, they didn’t try to climb over it with axes like many of the old free warriors foretold in tales of war against kneelers – the ones that fell to their deaths in the process, nay, the old man had only spoken words to it, like a spell – evil magic that wall is for sure, and it had simply opened up for him;_

_Ygritte had silently sworn to herself in that moment that she would learn those words and go back one day to set them all free, she would go back for Dalla, she would go back north –_

“Simply staring at the pages will do nothing to help you” the low drawl of her good brother beckoned her from across his great stone desk; “shall I insist you go back to reading out loud good-sister?”

“Why have I got to do this for anyhow Doran? I don’t use yer drawn sounds throughout my days; I don’t need ‘em –”

“Education is valuable to everyone, from the mighty king to the lowly peasant –“

“The mighty king can fuck the lowly peasant for all I care –“ Ygritte bit her tongue too slow for Doran was glaring at her in that predatory way he has, but so like his sister this one was always quick to find his calm;

“I have taken the time to respect you and your culture by learning the language of your people” Doran hummed like the knowing voice of weirwood gods, deep and creepy; “least you wish to return back over that wall with no hope of return, I implore you to learn mine” he finished in the old tongue probably to prove his point – though it were far from perfect, the dornish accent makes it sound queer

None the less, he was impressive this King of Dorne, could prove you wrong no matter how right you thought you were. Doran was unlike anyone she had ever known; he was firm yet generous, inspiring but humble – no one in the north were like that

In true north there was no such thing as sharing, not really. Everyone in the clan had a duty or responsibility whether it be; collecting firewood, water, food, or tending to the fires around camp, there was something that needed doing all day round no doubt, for there was never enough fire, never enough water, never enough food, not in the north, not where winter is endless

If ya can’t pull yer own weight around camp, well, don’t expect to live amongst them very long. Ain’t nobody goin’ t’ help ya if ya can’t even help yerself – and that don’t just apply to the north

“Sometimes I think Doran Martell” Ygritte murmured as she trailed her fingers along the strange shapes and patterns the southerners write their sound in; “you know nothing –“

“And the other times?” he questioned with a cock of his eyebrow

“Most times, I think maybe I don’t”

They always did this when Oberyn left, the girls preferred to stay at the gardens with the other children and Planky Town was too hot for her most of the year anyhow. They stayed instead with Doran and Mellario at the Water Gardens of Dorne – the gardens that she could write an ode for, her piece of heaven on earth, her new home away from true home, the one she had come to love the most.

It is the only place Ygritte has truly known in Dorne, oh for sure she made it past the mountains and wandered through the desert aimlessly for almost two days and nights, but she has never seen Starfall – where Oberyn says the gods clear the skies so men can see the story of the stars from dusk till dawn, nor had she truly explored Sunspear – the markets so cluttered with stalls that there was no doubt in her mind she had not yet seen all of them. Ygritte went to Planky Town that once, but never again, the sun had burnt her skin an angry red and the only escape offered was the giant, daunting sea – that had sounded so much more inviting when she hadn’t realised how deep it went

The Water Gardens was an oasis in the wasteland though, the fruit, the children, the springs and pools, the place sung promise of life everywhere. And true enough to that statement, here is where she had found life;

_Ygritte had barely made it out of that red prison with its black cages alive; the twins had been swept away by a summer princess and her champion – though she had mocked them then, Ygritte hardly could now, but the cursed old man had stayed with her, to lead her to the promised land south as south can go. She shoud’ve fuckin’ killed him while she had the chance but there was different danger beneath the wall, here there was war, a war she could barely understand;_

_‘You’re telling me these kneelers kill each other over who they’re goin’ t’ kneel for?’ she asked the old man in a snort_

_They had escaped where mad Kings land by foot but the old man had insisted they found mounts before separating, the horse she’d stolen was a stubborn fuckin’ thing but it probably didn’t help that she had never ridden before, oh sure some people in the north had mounts but most had hungry mouths to feed. Ygritte and the old man made camp by night, every night, and so they passed time with him telling her of this new world she’d been stolen away into;_

_‘Men have fought in the name of Kings for thousands of years’ he told her with the smile he normally wore when his mind had drifted years and leagues away; ‘least they fall subject to madness, you of all people should understand that now’_

_True enough she did, the mad dragon kneelers called their King had taught her well enough the power of a crown in the south, the power of an iron throne. The curdling screams of men burning alive and the cackles that lingered in it haunted her still; never would she have believed living men would kneel before an evil old king, so like the cold ice King of their northern legends but instead of ice the dragon chose to burn with fire_

_‘They should choose not to kneel at all’ she said dismissively, ignoring the way Old Mordecai grinned at her_

_‘Perhaps, they should child’ he agreed with a chuckle, not knowing how his amusement made her wish to slit his fuckin’ throat, ‘but all men must die and all men must serve’_

“I’m glad I kneel to you” Ygritte grumbled, not truly wishing to admit it but daring him to challenge her choice none the less – so was the way of the Wildling Princess and her King of Freedmen

He smiled in the way she remembered his sister had; the sad ‘I wish I could say the same’ look shining in the depths of their eyes. The twins had introduced her to the concept of ‘siblings’, spear-wives didn’t often birth more than one babe in lands of winter never ending, and even if they did most babes were claimed by the cold before another could ever call it brother or sister. The poor mother of those bastards though had managed to survive birthing them; and Jax had once spoken of a sister older than him, though that were only in times of passing grief

Ygritte’s imprisonment in the Red Keep was where she learnt the true depths of ‘family’ though. Aye, this family concept is another one of these southern ideas. Your clan was your family in the north, yer maa were dead before ya could remember her, and ya father left before your mother regained consciousness

Yet there she was, locked in a cage with a pretty direwolf who feared for his sister and howled for his father and a kind princess who worried for her son and cried for her daughter, all while the dragon shrieked and screamed for them to bleed. To love someone truly, to care and worry for them even when it’s your life that’s most at risk, that is the true love of family.

“You kneel to no one sister” Doran hummed in the great low voice he had, the kind that made people listen; “you are a Martell now, and as you say, we ain’t no kneelers”

“Ha!” she laughed; “Unbowed, unbent, unbroken?”

“Aye” Doran chuckled with a proud smile; “unbowed, unbent, unbroken. I’m glad to see you take to our words so well”

“Ain’t no words south more fitting for any free folk I suppose” she shrugged nonchalantly, “and what could mean more to someone who’s only known winter than the sun?”

“True, but what means more to any of us than the sun?” Doran asked though Ygritte wasn’t sure if she were meant to answer, not that he gave her the chance to anyhow; “Tell me about your home?” Doran insisted for how do these southerners say? Thous – thou – and? Fuck it, too many times to keep on fuckin’ askin’ that’s for sure

“My home is the same and opposite to here. Tempered by the ice with deserts of snow where Dorne is forged in fire with deserts of sand –“

“You’ve explained all this” Doran cut in with a bored roll of his tongue; “your brothers that helped take my sister –“

“Jax and Saxson ain’t no brothers of mine, that’s for damn sure” Ygritte snorted indignantly. The others took her mother before she ever got a chance to name Ygritte after all, it was Dalla’s mother Yanna that claimed and cared for her when she were just a babe. Some cunt stole Yanna one night when they were still girls who hadn’t even bled –

“Ain’t no stealing bastard any brother mine” Ygritte said to herself more bitterly

“And yet you insisted my brother steal you?”

“That ain’t the same!” she snapped defensively

“Forgive me” Doran murmured; acting like he weren’t tryin’ t’ piss her off; “I didn’t realise it ‘wasn’t the same’ when you want to be stolen”

“Bah!” Ygritte scoffed; “You know nothing Doran Mar –“

“Don’t I?” Doran purred through a smirk, so cocky and sarcastic like his brother – and yet no where near as sexy as Oberyn could be; “I saw how you looked at my brother, even before you wed, but then by all rights” he laughed now, just like his brother would’ve, just like his sister would’ve, so alike all these Martells are, but don’t all snakes have scales?

“Oberyn had already stolen you the day he brought you to these very gardens bound and gagged”

She wanted to object, Ygritte snorted and scoffed in defiance but any words she had to fight such accusations died on her tongue before leaving her lips

_The desert nearly fuckin’ killed her where the mountains had only just failed_

_‘From the Yronwood castle we need only ride south-east for two days to reach Sunspear’ the old man told her as they led their new mounts through the mountains._

_‘Can this thing handle two days of riding?’ she asked in disbelief, it were so skinny compared to the last horse she doubted it would even hold her weight for that long but the old fool only chortled away in the absent way he does;_

_‘Can you?’ he challenged with a grin that almost got his head impaled on her spear, but Ygritte ignored her instincts and scoffed in defiance instead_

_The tiny white gold thing they traded the great stubborn mule for seemed like a bad deal at the time but this horse was better for the mountains and once it was unleashed into the desert it ran faster than the winds._

_Ygritte quickly realised how well suited this animal was to the desert, and how poorly she took to riding it for two days in the sun. When they had been in the mountains, the shadows had stifled the power of the sun, the rays had not seared her skin or boiled her blood, but out in the desert, all beasts bow before the sun._

_‘I have to stop’ she relented on the dawn of the second day, it had pushed her body’s extremities to adapt to the heat, and then darkness fell and the desert became nothing but a black sea of sand and sky, the night so cold in contrast to the day that her sweat had turned cold, freezing her aching bones, ‘I can’t –‘_

_‘You can’ the old man bellowed encouragingly, their horses galloping onwards in to the eternal wasteland, as though running for two days was simply in their nature, the rising sun chasing them through the sky, promising another day of burning heat_

_‘Only a few more hours and I’m sure a snake shall find us’ he insisted, the peek of a familiar smile spread wide across his face before he hid it behind his white headscarf_

_Not three hours had passed – although her blood had begun to boil still, when the dust clouds and storming gallops of an approaching party came bee-lining for them, as though they had spotted the pair of them from well afar. The closer it came the more Ygritte could make out; there were three, one on a horse of white and grey, shiny and skinny like the one she rode – though far prettier, one on a dark brown horse with a black mane – he was the biggest of the three, and then at the head of the pack, riding like a mad man out for vengeance, there he was – the cockiest bastard she would ever come to love, a prince on a black horse in loose sheer black attire that bellowed in his wake, the black of his eyes so dark and fierce she could feel his anger resonating from him_

_‘Halt, in the name of Prince Doran Nymeros Martell’ the biggest one declared in a booming voice that was heard well and clear probably all the way north, though Ygritte had been below the Wall now for well over a year she still understood very little of the kneelers’ tongue. Whatever Ellie and the wolf had taught her in them cells was all she really knew but anyone can tell what ‘stop’ means in almost any tongue. The old Mordecai came to an immediate and graceful halt though Ygritte had no such control of her beast._

_She rode past them in a violent disarray cursing and cussin’ the stupid horse for not doing as it were damn well meant to, the one on the grey horse chuckled at her as she streaked past, chasing after her as if it were some kind of a game. Ygritte dismounted disgracefully into the sand – if one could count throwing yourself from a speeding horse ‘dismounting’, staggering to claim her spear_

_‘Woah girl’ the grey horsemen soothed as he calmed his horse to a stop; ‘I mean you no harm my lady’ the man claimed in a gentle voice, she had heard such promises made by pretty men before – though they had not been directed to her_

_Ygritte grasped her spear firmly, positioning it within her hands in a way that was most effective in combat, a way she had developed to best suit her. She snarled and snapped at him through an angry sneer, remembering how pretty men could often be the maddest ones to take you, and threatening him to even dare make such a challenge_

_‘Please my lady –‘he tried saying but she only jutted the spear at him with a growl_

_‘What’s going on here?’ an impatient voice suddenly hissed, arriving so swiftly and silently it almost caught Ygritte off guard; ‘Hurry up Aric, the sun sets, we do not have time for this’_

_‘Of course my prince’ the man answered in a tone of irritation – Aric, his name was Aric, ‘but as you could see’ he trailed of suggestively, his pretty purple eyes pointing to the end of the spear that was tucked under his chin_

_‘For fuck sakes Aric’ the black prince hissed as he dismounted from his horse in a movement so fluid she thought he could not have bones; ‘she’s just a woman’ he spat as he went to grab the end of a spear_

_Ygritte mightn’t of known much southern tongue, but she knew well enough the tone of an insult. As quick as the shadowcat she had learned to mimic, the tip of her spear sliced open his left cheek – not so deep to cause any true bother but enough to make a point_

_The prince’s face went from indifference to disbelief and then briefly to excitement until his eyes trailed down her hands stopping at the wrist that tinkered with tiny bells, orange and red gemstones decorating a chain of delicate gold_

_‘Where did you get that?’ he hissed murderously, the glare of his eyes so sinister he could have stopped a horde of others. All fear of her spear – if there ever was any to begin with, had faded and been replaced with rage and wrath. He simply tore it from her hands with a strength she didn’t think a man as lithe as him could have, discarding it behind him with a flick of his wrist that sent it burrowing deep into the sand_

_‘Where?’ the prince repeated as he grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and shook it furiously in her face, ‘where?!’ he demanded_

_‘Ellie’ she growled as she struggled to snatch her wrist back from him, he let her go after analyzing her with a sweep of his eyes, something she recognized in a princess of summer_

_‘Take this’ Ellie had whispered to her as she unclasped the chain from her own wrist and bound it to Ygritte, ‘if any one questions you, show them this bracelet, tell them I gave it to you, and if they doubt you still remember my words’ she instructed with the warm smile that won the hearts of men ‘look to tomorrow and know I saw it with you’ she finished, tucking a sealed parchment into her hand, ‘this belongs to my brothers, you will be able to tell I assure you’_

_Realisation suddenly dawned on her as though it should have been obvious from the beginning, ‘look to – to – tomorrow’ she stammered, flustered with herself that she hadn’t practiced the words, ‘and know I saw it with you. Your sister gave it to me’ Ygritte snapped defensively as she wrapped her other hand firmly around the chain as though to protect it from his stare_

_‘But this is yours’ she added, reaching into the furs Ygritte was so determined to keep – she had hunted and skinned every animal that made them furs after all, it would be a dishonour to the lives they lost to discard them so, though there were many occasions in the last few days that made her regret that vow bitterly_

_Ygritte handed him the parchment that had remained sealed, trusting the author enough to find the right words to say – hadn’t she always? He had snatched it from her greedily, his hands that had been so violent before now gentle as they caressed the seal_

_‘My prince?’ the grey horseman inquired, sounding curious as he assessed Ygritte and the bracelet she still hid_

_‘Where is she?’ the black prince interrogated, completely ignoring the other man_

_‘Safe’ she said not knowing what else to say but feeling as though that answered enough_

_Something close to a smile pulled at his lips as he closed the space between them, ‘If I cannot make you talk’ he hummed in a deep predatory glower, ‘then I assure you, Doran can’_

_He had pulled her into a shameless position with her wrists held firmly above and behind her head, her back stiff against the chiselled flat of his chest, his legs planted to the ground between the two of hers that had been spread to accommodate to him – in truth something in her liked it, but Ygritte shut that cock hungry bitch up right quick_

_She stared accusatory daggers at him, Ygritte had come here seeking salvation that was promised, and she had just delivered a message from one of his blood across lands of war and death; ‘Ellie’ Ygritte grunted at him, hoping he would understand the promises made_

_‘Yes, yes, I see that it seems you have won my sisters favour’ he taunted, flicking the bell as he said so for more sarcastic clarity, ‘but you’ve cut my pretty face you see’ he pouted though the smirk was barely hidden beneath the feigned expression, ‘and that can not simply go unpunished, can it Aric?’ he called to the man who looked to be blushing at their position_

_‘Whatever pleases you my prince’ he mumbled_

_‘Oh it does’ the prince purred as he slowly and alluring bound her with leather cord, ‘it pleases me greatly’_

_‘The wolf whore can wait’ he had commanded the others, the old man who still smiled on fondly and the big man whose voice was like thunder had joined them now, though the three eyed the old man suspiciously even though he seemed so familiar with them, ‘Doran will want to see you’_

_He told her as he bound Ygritte to his horse with her ass propped over one side of it, shamefully displaying her like a dog on heat. She had sworn at and cursed him for almost a whole hour – ignoring how hoarse her voice was becoming and how the sun scolded her with its unrelenting rays of fire, until he finally lost patience and gagged her_

_‘So keen to moan for me wild one’ the cocky snake had chuckled as he pushed a scarf down her throat, fastening it in place with cord strung around her head – how easy it had been for him to capture her, how much she hated him for it_

_‘But I’d prefer you silent’ he finished with a smirk, his dark laughter of amusement echoing in the desert_

_Bound and gagged he had thrown her at his oldest brother’s feet, a man with an indifferent look in his blue black eyes, his eyebrow cocked at the woman swearing shamelessly before him_

_‘And what do we have here?’ the older brother questioned the younger, a smile on his lips that was soothingly alarming, like a princess she had befriended in the den of a dragon_

_‘It seems I’ve stolen a wildling brother’ the black prince mused as he took to gazing out on to the gardens, ‘shall we keep her?’_

Aye, Oberyn had stolen her well enough there and then but Ygritte wasn’t willing to accept it so easily;

“Your brother’s not that pretty southern king, I assure you”

“That’s not what your eyes say, northern woman” he japed though his attention seemed more focused on the paper in his hand

“She’s coming home” Ygritte offered more affectionately than she intended to, family or not, you don’t need to turn into a whimpering fool just cause ya have one

“Aye” Doran sighed in relief though the worry never vanished from his face, “but I fear perhaps the time is not yet right”

“You’re king” she scoffed, “the time is right when you say it is, so is the way of you kneelers”

“If only it were so simple” Doran huffed, massaging his temples in small circular motions, “the Yronwoods have not responded in almost two moons and Euron Greyjoy speaks of a rebellion rising from the sea”

“Oberyn says he’s just a pirate –“ she tried to dismiss but Doran only cut her off

“Oberyn underestimates a lot of people, you should know that”

“Aye” she admitted bitterly, “but they often underestimate him too”

“That they do” Doran smiled proudly, in the way only an older brother can, “but they underestimate you more” he added in a purr that worried her more than any mad cackle from a fire breathing dragon

“What do ya want now?” she groaned with the roll of her eyes, this good-brother of hers was relentless in his objectives, looking at every man like a value piece in the board game he played so often – though never with Oberyn, Oberyn does hate losing, ha! Wee lamb –

“Aric shall be meeting Elia at sea; he carries a message for ‘the dog’, as my brother has so passively dubbed him. Blood begets blood –“ he trailed off for her to pick up

“A life for a life” she nodded in understanding, though she didn’t understand truly

“Aye, you will meet my sister at Sunspear with the girls” he continued, not missing the way he said ‘my’ ever so possessively, but just enough to remind Ygritte of the trait that both Martell boys seemed to carry; “but first my wild good-sister” his voice turning into a gentle roll, almost sweet despite its thickness, “I trust you remember the way to castle Yronwood?”

“No!” She gasped in horror, for truly she was horrified, “I ain’t tracking through that desert again –“

“This time shall be different –“

“Don’t just say it like there is a this time” she snapped indignantly, “why couldn’t you just send Oberyn –“

“They’d see him coming before he got there, a viper is easy to spot when you know what you’re looking for –“

“And a red head wildling ain’t?” she snorted incredulously

“Not when they don’t know she’s coming” Doran grinned as he took a black vial from the drawer of his desk; “not when she doesn’t have red hair.”

Thinking back on it she had never seen Doran look so like his younger siblings before, all three Nymeros Martells bore the same features when conspiring to mischief it seemed, his eyes pleaded with a dark innocence that couldn’t be feigned, his smile wide and bright even as it border-lined mockery

“You Martells are all the same” Ygritte snapped, though she could feel a smile pulling on her own lips, “you lot just love looking for trouble, don’t you?”

“Aye” Doran teased, a sparkle in his eyes so much like Oberyn just before he’s about to fuck everything up, “but isn’t that why you love us so?”

In truth, it probably was, this desert family had taught Ygritte much about love and belonging, acceptance and consideration. She had grown into a woman of the sands – nay, a mother of spear and snakes, faster than the sun rose into the skies of Dorne. Love had come so easily despite her resistance, ‘family’ had thrummed on her heart’s strings louder than she could have ever imagined. For this ‘clan’ she’d found in the kingdom of the sun, there isn’t much Ygritte wouldn’t do – though she’d never admit so out loud, these cocky bastards don’t need to inflate their egos anymore than the gods already have

“Who is it that says I love any of yas?” Ygritte mused unconvincingly; “we freed folk don’t know love like you kneelers –“

“You’re more one of us than you think” Doran chuckled as his eyes looked into hers searchingly; “I can see it in your eyes you know”

“What?” she scoffed, unconvinced by Doran’s pretty declarations

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken” he told her as his eyes still looked into hers, eyes so like her prince’s despite the luminescence of their blue hue; “not just pretty words, as a Martell, you understand completely don’t you?”

It shouldn’t have been so easy to convince her to go into hell, the girls’ excitement to see the aunt who had been only legend to them till now had only made it easier for Doran to persuade her, so was the way of this southern concept they called family, so consuming and controlling these feelings for others were, so strange and confusing it still was even now after three long years, but she was Ygritte Nymeros Martell, the wild freed princess of south as south could go, and she would be unbowed, unbent and unbroken.

No matter how the Gods would test her resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is the creation of GRRM, I've made quite the mess of it, but I still hope you enjoy?


	20. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always sorry about the slow updates, I can only really write on sunday now so expect updates fortnightly :/ sorry. Not the most thorough editing but this was one long chapter so I just gave up after reading it for the hundredth time -.- grr. Anyway I hope you enjoy, comments appreciated :)

**Jaime Lannister - 286AL Casterly Rock, the Westerlands**

 

“Pe – pen – toe – toes – toss – Pentos” he mumbled to himself as he struggled to read this blasted letter, forgetting momentarily that his ever observant brother was still very much present;

“Who’s in Pentos?” Tyrion inquired, though he never bothered to look up from whatever declarations of love he was making. Jaime was happy for it truly, it was about time someone loved his brother besides he and his twins, but right now he envied him more. Tyrion had always been so good with books and words – Jaime; had not.

At the age of ten, Jaime could barely write his own name, his lord father had been beyond disappointed, in fact, ‘disappointed’ would not be the best way to describe it at all;

_‘What is this?’ his father had growled menacingly, holding the treacherous parchment that was meant to represent Jaime’s efforts during his lessons – or lack there of_

_‘F-f-forgive me, my lord’ the new maester began stammering, ‘Lord Jaime’s focus seems to waver when lessons venture into subjects he doesn’t –‘ pausing to search all the books in his mind for a word to make this right – Jaime already knew no such word existed;_

_‘Excel in, m’lord?’ the maester all but whimpered; for what else do rats do in the presence of the lion?_

_Not much had changed in his father’s posture or stance, Tywin stood as stiff as always with his shoulders back and chest puffed up with pride, but the look in his eyes had changed entirely, their green hue was now a sharp and penetrating glare – his father had felt slighted Jaime knew, and Tywin Lannister did not handle slights well_

_‘Your services are no longer required here maester’ Tywin told him in the tone of indifference he had perfected to disguise his rage. The pitiful rat could only cower and nod like a simpering jester that was no longer found pleasing;_

_‘I deem you incompetent and incapable of fulfilling your role as a maester to this realm’ his father glowered, a **promise** not a threat; _

_‘I shall personally make sure you will not be one much longer’_

_The maester looked on the brink of tears as his mouth seemed to try and find an argument, though no understandable words ever left his tongue, only the barely audible choking sounds that managed to escape his throat were heard._

_He felt sorry for the man really, it wasn’t his fault Jaime’s mind couldn’t make sense of all the letters and numbers, the man had told it true enough, Jaime most definitely did not excel in literature or math – but what did that matter when he could divide a man in two?_

_Apparently; it mattered plenty, at least to his lord father. This was the fourth maester to be deemed wanting since his mother’s passing two years before, rumours of what happened to the one that let his mother die were worse than the tales of Castamere, though the latter three had all been dismissed for the same reason;_

_Jaime couldn’t read and Jaime couldn’t write. Sure, he could get through children’s books with little but obvious struggle, relying mainly on the pictures to interpret the message rather than the actual words, but Jaime wouldn’t even bother trying to read one of the tomes Cersei could finish with little to no effort, nor would he ever be able to comprehend the numbers that his brother could even though Jaime was eight years his senior. He felt stupid and simple-minded – and who in their right mind wanted to feel such a way? But no matter what he tried, nothing he did changed the fact that Jaime was almost completely illiterate._

_‘You are in need of a sharp lesson, boy’ his father had informed him as he dragged Jaime to his solar. Tywin had caned the bottom his feet until they were bloody and welted;_

_‘If you insist on walking through life hindered’ Tywin told him nonchalantly as he placed his bloodied cane back on its mantle, ‘so be it’_

_So was the way of his father’s discipline – poetically fucked up and ruthless. Jaime had pleaded and screamed for mercy but it was to no avail, his father missed not one beat, and each strike remained as powerful as the last. He had never experienced a ‘sharp lesson’ before and he never would again – at least not first hand._

_Cersei had hushed his whimpers with her gentle coos that night, as he laid his head in her lap, sobering as he waited for her empathetic words to heal the wound in his heart;_

_‘When I am Queen’ she had hummed to him as though it were a blessing and not a curse, gently patting his head with an affection Jaime was simply helpless against, ‘I shall have him pay for what he has done to you on this night sweet brother, I swear it’_

_‘Swear that you love me instead’ he wanted to say, ‘swear that you’ll never leave me.’ But Cersei didn’t like it when he said things like that; they were ‘silly’ she said, ‘what if someone hears?’_

_‘Let them!’ he wished to bellow from the depths of his burning core, but Cersei would only scowl at him, her lips twisting ever so beautifully though it echoed her disdain, her body turning away from his though they were meant to be merged together – it hurt more than he could bare right now_

_So instead, Jaime chose to do nothing but welcome whatever love his sweet sister was willing to give him._

He had not seen or heard from Cersei in moons, not since she had given birth to a ‘golden son’, as she so eloquently wrote in the formal message that was spread throughout Westeros – Jaime had thought it was her way of declaring ‘he’s our son’ to the world, ‘a true Lannister through and through’, but then again he has often wondered if it were merely Cersei’s way of saying; ‘my son’ –

“Brother?” Tyrion beckoned, awakening Jaime from his daydreams of discipline and wanting, swiftly reviving him back to reality, “who’s in Pentos?” he repeated with a cock of his brow, so like their mother

“Nobody’s in Pentos –“

“Then why were you mumbling about it? Who writes to you?” Tyrion interrogated predatorily, as though he was a lion and Jaime’s secrets were his prey – but Jaime Lannister was no man’s prey

“Who writes to _you_?” he threw back with a knowing smirk, his eyebrow now cocked where his brother’s had fallen

“Don’t even jape Jaime –“

“A poem for your love I see” Jaime teased unrelentingly, finding it amusing how the hunter becomes the hunted for the mere love of a woman

“Fine” Tyrion huffed in defeat as he threw his small arms in the air above him – though his reach only ever extended to Jaime’s lower ribs.

“If you don’t want to share with me brother, you only need to say so”

“I say so” Jaime grunted, ignoring the way a part of him wanted to scream it from the mountains, so he could finally be relieved of all of these lies;

‘I’ve fucked my own sister’ he would blurt if he could, ‘so many times in fact I lost count in just one week. I’ve broken vows and lied to a kingdom for the sake of a promise I made to a princess’

“Some things are better left unsaid” he says to his curious brother instead, crumpling the letter in his fist before discarding it to the flames

“What are you doing?” Tyrion gasped with horror, never the one to destroy knowledge of any kind

“As I said brother” Jaime shrugged as he took a cast-iron poker to ensure the fire would quickly consume any evidence of deceit, “some things are better left unsaid”

Tyrion wouldn’t be satisfied with that he knew, if anything it would only serve to make him even more curious but his observant little brother had less to say on the matter than Jaime expected;

“We all have our secrets Jaime” his brother supposed with a shrug that said ‘all was forgotten’, though he knew when it came to Tyrion, such a statement simply wasn’t true, “you keep mine, and I’ll keep yours”

“Aye brother, you keep mine and I’ll keep yours” he said with a smirk though his eyes were on the dancing fire, burning away his lies.

Quite ironic it was that his brother chose those words in particular, how amusing his life must be to the Gods that torment him, twisted and facetious as they are to keep repeating such phrases, as though to remind him constantly of his sins.

But then Jaime could only smile to himself as his mind drifted into blissful memories, to a time when a princess had tamed a lion;

_She was intrusive this dornish woman, he had learnt that very quickly, for sure she was curious, witty, kind, funny and all other things summer and sunshine but above all else, Elia Martell was intrusive – at least when it came to him_

_‘Ser Lion’ she called through the door to her privacy, Jonothor Darry had left not moments before, patting Jaime on the shoulder sympathetically as he returned to guarding his post_

_Jaime had been designated as sworn shield to Princess Elia since arriving at court not one moon ago. Up until last night his days had been consistent; Princess Elia rises before the sun, is bathed and readied before the last rooster crows, is sitting in the nursery with Rhaenys until they formally break their fast with Her Grace, Queen Rhaella and Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall, and after that, if she was not sewing and reading with her ladies and Queen, she was in the gardens with the children eating blood oranges in the sun or writing furiously into some parchment in the isolation of her study_

_Everything had been so regular with Elia, so routine and predictable – at least, up until last night_

_‘My princess shall not require your assistance tonight, Ser Jaime’ his once Prince Rhaegar had told him with a reassuring smile, ‘I will be here’_

_‘Oh – of course, your Grace’ he stammered, knowing that a furious blush had risen to his cheeks. The Prince came to Elia’s bedchambers every night during the darkest hours, rumours said nightmares of the stag claiming his true love kept the dragon prince from slumber, but Jaime knew otherwise, he had seen different._

_Most nights he was not relieved of his duties – though some Rhaegar would take pity on him and send Jaime to his own sleep, most he would simply stand guard and hear nothing stir in the chamber he defended until the sun rose on the morrow._

_On nights like these however, well, what can you say? The Prince was only a man after all, and his wife had an allure about her that even Jaime found somewhat charming. Like most of the seven kingdoms after the Tourney of Harrenhal, Jaime had believed Rhaegar was displeased with Elia, he thought perhaps that Elia would be cold to him in spite, and yet here he was, furiously blushing from head to toe because the Prince has asked him for privacy while he went and fucked his wife._

_It didn’t happen often – perhaps once a week at most, but when it did he couldn’t help the embarrassment he felt at being privy to such intimate details;_

_‘There’s obviously no need for me here my prince, I’ll go see if Ser Jonothor would like company guarding her Grace’ Jaime said in a rush more to himself than Rhaegar, as he frantically searched his mind for ways to escape this awkwardness gracefully._

_‘Thank you, Ser Jaime’ Rhaegar had said with a sad smile that was almost an amused smirk, ‘I should appreciate that very much’_

_He had barely waited for Rhaegar to give him leave before he was pacing as quickly down the corridor as he could go, a low haunting chuckle chasing him as he fled. Jaime would really rather not have to listen to people fucking – as amusing as it sometimes was, not when he missed Cersei so._

_He didn’t even get a chance to really say goodbye before father had packed up and retreated to Casterly Rock in a silent rage, Jaime had wanted to kiss away her tears, hold her till she stopped crying, make love to her until they both forgot they were two separate beings – not that Cersei had given him the opportunity to really make love to her often it had only ever happened the once before back then, but his father would have none of it, he simply took Cersei as though she was his to claim and gave up his position of Hand – who the fuck would have thought he would react such a way?_

_Obviously not them_

_It had been over a moon since and still not one word from his sister – though Cersei knew he couldn’t really read it would have been nice to receive a short, ‘I love you’, she knew well enough Jaime was capable of reading that. Sometimes he would envision their father stopping her from sending ravens, trying to escape his grasp to return to her twin, but in more recent times he fantasised more about how his father would react if Tywin were to stumble upon them_

_Jaime had pondered the thought a million times with a grin, imagining how he would not stop, how he would simply keep fucking into _his_ Cersei all the while glaring at his father in challenge. No such thing would ever happen of course, Tywin Lannister would behead his golden twins without even flinching, if it would save the reputation of their house, so be it. That’s why Cersei always wanted to be careful, that’s why Jaime needed to be careful. He couldn’t really give a fuck if he were taken from this miserable existence, but to think of Cersei in pain, to imagine her suffering that was true torture –_

_‘Ser Jaime?’ the low calming voice of Jonothor Darry beckoned, shocking him in to realisation that his feet had taken him to the Queen’s chambers – though looking on it more darkly perhaps it was the fates that carried him to his devastation_

_‘The princess had no need of me Ser Darry, do not fear’ he answered without needing to be asked, noting the worried crease in the large knight’s brow he added, ‘she is with the prince tonight’_

_‘I see’ Jon huffed with a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a knowing chuckle, ‘well pray then brother, if you will, feel free to join me’_

_Jonothor Darry was one of his favourites amongst his new brothers, for sure he idolised Ser Arthur Dayne as if he were a god – in Jaime’s honest opinion he is, and Gerold Hightower commanded a kind of respect from him like no other man, but Jonothor made him feel more at ease with his new position than anyone – well bar perhaps Queen Rhaella who had taken to him like a son._

_Which is why Jaime thought he’d find comfort in being here, defending a Queen worthy of protection, alongside a brother he had so much trust in –_

_But on this particular night, he couldn’t have chosen a worse place to be_

_Jaime felt Jonothor tense next to him before he heard the footsteps coming, a drunken cackle suddenly echoing from the darkness – if anyone had been watching him they would’ve seen how his sword hand twitched at that. There was no mistaking who was coming, Jaime had been naïve enough to think the King and Queen too old to partake in such things anymore, he thought their relationship too bitter to hold such intimacy, such love – oh Gods how naïve he’d been, but woe how the dragon purged him of it_

_‘Jonothor’ the mad King hissed suspiciously as he zoned in on the knight in question, the candle lit lantern he held flickered in the dark, illuminating his indigo eyes with flames, ‘what are you doing here? Who guards my queen?’_

_A moon ago Jaime would have been confused by such a statement, for sure there they were, before his very eyes, guarding the queen’s chambers – but Rhaella was not **Aerys’** Queen, his queen was little princess Rhaenys, his Dragon Queen_

_‘Forgive me your Grace, Princess Rhaenys specifically asked for Ser Lewyn this night; I believe she wanted to hear –’_

_‘Lewyn?!’ the King snapped accusingly, Aerys held a special loathing for the once dornish prince, where the queen he served as sworn ‘spear’ to adored him like she did her own blood – like she did Jaime_

_‘And what if the snake thinks to steal her off to Dorne, hmm?’_

_‘Your Grace, Ser Lewyn would never think to usurp you like that –‘_

_‘Bah!’ Aerys spat, ‘he would not usurp **her** you mean’ he gestured with a wild hand movement towards the door – and that’s when his evil gaze caught sight of Jaime_

_‘Why hello there little lion knight’ he purred predatorily, his eyes leering into Jaime’s in a way that made him all too uneasy_

_‘Control yourself Jaime’ his mind would tell him, ‘don’t touch that sword’_

_‘You do look so like your mother in the candle light’ Aerys hummed in a way that sounded like more of a challenge than a compliment, ‘let us see if you are as fierce as her as well’_

_Jonothor stiffened like a corpse next to him as the chamber door slammed behind Aerys. Jaime’s mind was racing with thoughts of what the King had meant, what was his challenge –_

_It had not taken more than a few mere moments to understand the dragon’s madness;_

_‘Brother, stop!’ he could hear Rhaella plead through the thick stone walls, the sound of flesh striking flesh swiftly following her cries_

_Jaime’s sword was half way out of its scabbard when Jonothor stayed his hand, he had been so astounded that Jonothor hadn’t already burst the door down; he was almost stricken to death with shock that his brother was instead stopping him_

_‘Jon –‘_

_‘He is your King’ Ser Jonothor told him solemnly, ‘when you donned that cloak, you promised to obey’_

_‘I also promised to protect!’ he growled indignantly, readying himself to barge that door as a scream rung clear through the walls_

_‘Brother, please!?’ Rhaella screamed, tormenting him so with her words_

_‘Why say ‘brother’? Why say it in a voice so like my sweet sister?’_

_‘He is your King’ Jonothor snapped shaking him back into reality, ‘aye you are vowed to protect her, and you **will** protect her from every other evil in this world, so help me Gods!’ His dark eyes turning cold and distant – a look he had never seen before in the tender loving knight, ‘but not from him, never from him’_

_Jaime had realised in that moment the true curse of that cloak, many would say he wasn’t man enough to don the white, some would call him too weak, but none of them would know what the fuck it’s like to be completely obedient to a fucking mad king –_

_‘Little sleep, Ser Lion?’ Elia asked him through a sad smile once he’d come to halt before her desk_

_‘I do believe both of us found little sleep, princess’ he cockily purred, hoping that his words could make her feel as uncomfortable as her words did him – they didn’t_

_‘Right you are Ser Lion, I too found little sleep of my own’ her expression for a moment almost seemed a little challenging, though it quickly slipped back into the gentle reassuring smile she normally held, ‘but my lack of sleep brought me peace, where yours has brought you –‘_

_‘Torment’ Jaime muttered to himself, not realising it was audible until it was too late_

_‘So it seems’ she replied without hesitation, the serene expression of her face never faltering, ‘come Ser Jaime, I should have you take me to the Queen’s chambers, we should like to share our lunch today in privacy and peace’_

_Jaime couldn’t have wanted to do anything less in his life, he could face anyone today, the king, this princess, Gods even his father, but not Rhaella Targaryen, anyone **but** Rhaella Targaryen. If the princess could sense his distress she paid it no mind as she took his arm, her guiding him instead of the vice versa that was expected. If Jaime had less control of himself he would have whimpered like a pup afraid of his master as they made their way through Maegor’s prison of a holdfast_

_A black kitten suddenly jumped out of the shadows to attack the trails of the princess’ gown, Elia only giggled merrily in the devil-may-care way she had, crouching to scoop the black menace – that almost got itself damn well killed for that’s how on edge Jaime was, up in to a mother’s embrace, waving the tiny bell of her golden bracelet before its face playfully with a slight grin;_

_‘In search of a battle little dragon’ she had cooed to the furry bundle in her arms, ‘come, your rider must be looking for you’_

_Jaime knew of course that princess Rhaenys would never so much as harm a hair on the end of that cat’s tail (she was much too sensitive to the effects she had on others to ever want to cause anything or anyone harm, poor sweet child), yet alone ride it but the girl had a glorious imagination and her lady mother indulged her in it, in fact all of the castle aided the little princess in achieving her fantasies._

_He had once found a kitchen maid ‘cowering in fear’ of the ‘dark dread himself’, chuckling to himself as he watched Rhaenys’ reaction;_

_‘No Balerion, we mustn’t burn our subjects, remember what Nana said’ she chastened as the cat ignored her instead to claw at the hem of her dress, ‘pray forgive him fair maid’ she’d told the woman with a stern and apologetic expression that somehow had the serving girl blushing, ‘Balerion is still little, he’s not a very good dragon yet’_

_‘I require no apologies from you, your Grace’ she replied with a nod that was meant to mimic a curtsey, as impossible as it was to curtsey properly from her position on the ground. The maid’s face had flushed an even more furious red, as she spotted Jaime in the corner of her eye, but he only smirked at her as the woman tried her damnedest to suppress a grin of her own._

_‘None the less’ the princess said in a matter-of-factly way that was no doubt copied from her lady grandmother, ‘I shall see you are com-compen-compensated, compensated!’ she declared more to herself than anyone else, an obvious achievement to his tiny queen to ensnare such a word at her age – it was indeed most impressive to Jaime_

_‘The dragon shall see you are compensated for your troubles my lady’ she said with a confident nod, obviously proud of her own declaration, ‘come Balerion, onward’_

_Her tiny trills of laughter – so much like her mother, were left in her wake as she vanished into the shadows with a child’s excitement and haste, the black kitten still playing amongst her skirts, lacing through her legs in pounces and bounds, as though he too understood his role in the play_

_‘Balerion’s quite taken with you Ser Lion’ Princess Elia purred as she gave up trying to restrain the little beast, returning to anchor Jaime’s wandering mind to the present by taking a hold of his arm once again_

_The pest had taken to attacking the hem of his cloak, having a firm grip of it with his fore arms he went from viciously biting at it to frantically kicking into it with his back paws, its claws pulling at the threading and cinching the fabric – not that Jaime cared, he only continued to walk on, dragging it behind him_

_‘As you say princess, I am a lion’ Jaime said with a grunt that he had hoped would sound more pleasing, ‘perhaps the cat can smell a cat’_

_‘Balerion is a dragon’ the stern little voice of his ever commanding princess scorned him, as she appeared from one of the alcoves to fetch her pet, he almost felt bad for a moment – but moments like that passed all too quickly it seemed_

_‘Of course he is my love’ Elia cooed as Rhaenys held Balerion in one arm, clutching firmly to her mother’s hand with the other, ‘Ser Lion was only pretending sweet’_

_‘Pretending?’ she questioned her mother though the question was probably better suited to Jaime – he hadn’t quite yet come to terms with being spoken about instead of to, though that cloak had cursed him with such duties regardless of his wanting_

_‘Aye my darling one, Ser Jaime was simply pretending that Balerion is a kitten’ Elia informed her daughter as though it were written in some text book somewhere, ‘kittens are better suited to lions’_

_‘Perhaps’ Rhaenys said with a ‘hmph’ that was so indignant yet innocent – it reeked of the royal blood that ran thick in her veins, Ser Lewyn had chuckled in amusement as he trailed behind his grand-niece, appearing from the shadows as all vipers seemed to do, ‘but dragons are better suited to dragons, grandfather said’_

_The tone of finality in her voice made her innocent words far more ominous than she had probably intended them to be, Jaime often wondered how much of her father’s melancholy the child had inherited – though her mother’s gentle calm seemed to be the most dominant of her emotions, from time to time he could see the ‘disappointed with the world’ look in the depth of Rhaenys’ eyes as clear as it was in Rhaegar’s –_

_But Jaime had little time to dwell on such thoughts as he quickly realised he had once again drifted to the Dragon Queen’s den, where Rhaella sat at a large bay window, embroidering something into one of the silks she often sewed into clothes for the orphans_

_**Orphans!** for maiden’s sake, for Rhaella Targaryen’s sake! She who was the pinnacle of virtue amongst women – how could Gods inflict such pain on her so? But his Queen had only looked at him with that sad knowing smile her eldest son and her only grand-daughter had obviously inherited from her, and though her bottom lip could hardly curl for how swollen it was, and her left eye was framed with an angry purple-red bruise that kept the eye slightly shut though they were usually wide with wonder, she looked at him with pity, and it seared into his heart_

_He could have raced to the mad King’s solar with sword in his hand seeking the blood of the so called dragon with a righteous vengeance, fuck the vows, fuck the oaths;_

_‘For in a cloak of sinful white a lion still has claws, and mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours’_

_Jaime could imagine it so vividly, the words rolling off his tongue on their own accord, penetrating green eyes meeting a dying purple with defiance, Aerys clutching at his shoulder to find some kind of release from the pain of the sword that impaled him – he could have done it then and there, he would have, if it weren’t for an intrusive princess;_

_‘She is our Queen’ Elia murmured to him quietly, though her words rung crystal clear, ‘she is to be respected by myself and all others of this realm without exception, you will not dishonour her strength with your pity Ser Lion, not when you are not strong enough to even carry your own burden’ her hand falling from his forearm gracefully to tug gently at his cloak as she said so_

_Jaime had taken it as an insult, a mockery to his ability even, but as the hours went by and the sun began to set Jaime had observed the women interact as though nothing had ever happened, as though their Queen had not been struck down by a fool – his blood boiled at the sight of it_

_‘What the fuck is wrong with you people?’ he wanted to snap, ‘Can’t you see what he’s done to her? Can’t you see how she winces in pain!?’_

_How could these cravens say they serve their Queen, when here they are acting the fools, how could they, how could **she**!? She who was meant to be the smiling princess of summer, she who declared her loyalty to her Queen on a regular basis for all to know, she who was meant to be the daughter of a Queen who had yet to bare her own –_

_If Jaime had not been glaring at Elia with predatory judgement he wouldn’t have noticed how her fingers bled into black silk as she furiously went to stitching some red and white threaded design, her lips twitching in disdain as though she silently put all of her wrathful curses into that silk – she was killing Aerys in her mind he knew, killing him with a tiny little needle_

_Her words had flooded back to him as he guided Elia to the dining hall with Prince Viserys and Princess Rhaenys chattering along behind them. The Queen would not be in attendance but the princess would find the words to pardon her good-mother of course, Elia was always so good with words – he had supposed that was how she tricked him into liking her_

_Jaime thought on how ironic it was for her to say such things, the most scorned woman in the eyes of the Seven kingdoms, silently defiant in the face of cruel and pitiful whispers. ‘She is too weak’ he would hear ladies gossip, ‘too dull for our prince’ and yet still she smiled on as if winter had come and gone and the sun was still there with the promise of a new day_

_‘You are much stronger than most give you credit for Princess’ Jaime complimented though the tone of his voice was much too harsh_

_‘We all have our secrets, Ser Lionknight’ Elia whispered conspiratorially as she pressed a silk handkerchief into his hand, ‘you keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours’  
_

Intrusive was the best way to describe this woman they called Elia Targaryen, for oh how intrusive she was on the heart of men, intrusive like the inner conscience of the guilty.

Jaime had that handkerchief still, the one thing in this world he had any kind of sentimental value for from those days in a blood red Keep, sometimes he would keep it in his pocket as he listened to feral Lords complain about their little gold when the common folk indeed had none, sometimes he would push it inside his armour – close to his heart, as he readied himself to march against Elia’s fellow country men, and sometimes – like now, he would merely hold it gently in one palm as his fingers ran over the red and white design, still blotched with the darker crimson of an angry princess’ blood.

A white lion clawing at the neck of a red dragon on a pure black field, his personal coat of arms that no one would ever know he claimed – no one but a run away princess in a far off land

“In such a secretive mood I see dear brother” Tyrion purred as he eyed the silk in Jaime’s hand suspiciously, though a sly grin quickly replaced his curiosity, “perhaps secretive enough to stay quiet for your beloved and most favourite little brother –“

“My only little brother” Jaime huffed indignantly though he could feel a smirk pulling at his own lips, “I would have named my first son for you, in the eyes of the Gods I have” Tywin had not taken well to Jaime naming his own son for his brother

_’You will not hinder him with such a name’ Tywin had growled as he leered down at Jaime in a manner that was far more intimidating than anything he was used to from his lord sire, Jaime was a man grown now, he had scars and children to prove himself so, and yet Tywin Lannister could still silence his cub, for though Tywin’s parenting had always lacked in love, his father made up such wanting with fear._

_‘He will be named Tybolt if you must have a name beginning with t, Tommen would be my desired preference’_

_‘Tybolt then’ Jaime had muttered to the ground, knowing his father’s eyes were drilling holes into his skull, ‘his name is Tybolt’_

It was only a small act of defiance and yet his father had taken it to heart still, Joan had Tywin’s affections like none of his own children ever did, though ‘Tyrry’ as he called his son away from listening ears – for it was close enough to ‘Tibby’ to be mistaken yet those that mattered could hear the difference with ease, inspired little to no love from the old lion. Tybolt only ever experienced the proud judgement Jaime had grown up to know – though that was much better treatment than Tybolt’s would be name sake had received for sure. Jaime had often wondered if he did rightfully name his son ‘Tyrion’, would his father have treated Jaime’s son equally as bad as he did his own?

Probably; was the saddest and yet most likely of answers

“Name your first son for me dear brother; and you may be afforded my silence” 

“Ha!” Tyrion cheered in response as he pulled at Jaime’s arm to bring him down to his level, “Thank you, sweet and glorious brother” he praised though Jaime knew it was empty enough, Tyrion still kissed at his cheek with an unrelenting conviction; “you are the most generous man in all the seven kingdoms. I shall name my first son Jaime, and my second Jaimeson, and my third James –” his brother swore on and on

Jaime only freed himself from Tyrion’s hold – as tight and strong as it was for one of his stature, and chuckled at him as he ran to gather whatever trinkets and books he had intended for his beloved, the dark haired crofter’s daughter he and his brother had stumbled upon whilst taking his growing twins on their daily outing.

“I will never forget this kindness great brother” Tyrion carried on dramatically in the theatrical way he had, even as he made his exit from the room, “A Lannister always pays their debts”

It was a deal they had been making to each other all their lives, thanks to Tywin Lannister his children had grown believing their oldest son was worth more than any gold in all the world, he was your legacy, so likewise the Lannister siblings went to using their first born as a bargaining chip

‘I will give you my first son if you trade clothes with me right now’ Cersei had sworn once when they were only six – amusing as it was to look back on now she had a ‘golden Joffrey’

‘I will name my first son for you Tyrry, if you forget you ever saw me tonight’ he had sworn to Tyrion one night when his curious brother had found him leaving Cersei’s chambers – they had only kissed and touched each other but that was enough to cause paranoid panic

Jaime had kept his word as best as his lord father had allowed, though it was worth it in the end to witness his brother’s appreciation;

_’Come to your uncle then boy’ Tyrion had cooed the morning of Melodie’s burial, as his son continued to wail and roar with no sign of ever stopping, but Tyrion had such a way with these children, better even than Jaime himself. His son had stopped crying as soon as he was safely nestled in his uncle’s arms, though it looked so awkward when comparing their sizes and age, it was some what serene._

_‘Tyrry –’_

_‘Not now Jaime’ his brother snapped impatiently, he had had little patience for anyone – except the twins, in the days that followed Melodie’s passing._

_Jaime had had quite enough of it really, Melodie was **his** wife, the mother of **his** children, if anyone had the right to be moody now it was **him** – but he really shouldn’t have reacted the way he did;_

_‘I wasn’t talking to you **imp** ’ he spat before his mind could properly register what his tongue was about to lash. ‘Imp’ had once been a hurtful word to his brother, curious as he was at the age of five to find the meaning to such a word;_

_‘Imp;’ Tyrion had projected loud and clear though his voice quivered with pain and his lip trembled with inner agony, Jaime went to stop him but his brother would have none of it as he simply carried on reading that stupid tome as if it wasn’t torturing him to do so_

_‘Is a small and mischievous demon or fiend, a fiend’ he paused to flick through the pages and find the word, ‘is an evil spirit, and evil Jaime’ his mismatched eyes over flowing with tears as he struggled to finish his words, ‘is what they think I am’_

_‘Who is ‘they’?’ Jaime had demanded as he went to claim his sword from its resting place, no one would simply make his brother believe such things and get away freely with his tongue still in his mouth. Curse them all to the hells for saying such things of **his** little brother, and curse all the tomes in the world for ever teaching him their meaning_

_‘Everyone’, Tyrion had roared through bitter tears, ‘the kitchen maids, the guards, the lords and all the ladies, Cersei, father –‘_

_‘Not me’ Jaime murmured in the affectionate tone he only ever reserved for his family, ‘I don’t call you that Tyrry, though people may call you imp, fiend or demon that all matters not to me, for I call you brother, and wouldn’t I know you the best?’_

_It had sated Tyrion then, in fact, his brother had wrapped himself around Jaime in the appreciative little grasp he had. He had sworn to himself he would never hurt his little brother so with his words but now –_

_‘What did you say Jaime?’ Tyrion asked half quizzically and astounded_

_‘I’m so sorry brother, it is only I am under so much pressure –‘_

_‘I wasn’t talking about ‘imp’ you fool’ Tyrion snorted indignantly, as though such a word had never had any effect on him, ‘before that, what did you say?’_

_‘I said I wasn’t talking to you?‘_

_‘And before that?’ Tyrion interrogated though he did so almost fondly, his eyes somewhat filled with a proud joy Jaime had never seen before in his brother_

_‘I said Tyrry, a son should have a name you know, I thought perhaps to name him for my favourite brother’ he added quickly with a grin before Tyrion had the chance to interrupt again, ‘but my father preferred he had a name of his own, so I chose Tybolt, named for the bastard of Tyrion Lannister, the King of the Rock who bent to the dragons’ it was one of his mother’s favourite stories, and as such his brother was named for her favourite character – and now his son was named in honour of both of them;_

_‘My father is usually right after all, I thought perhaps Tyrion was too much of a name for my son to live up to’ Jaime added with a smirk that would usually be met with the roll of his eyes, though Tyrion had eyes only for his son in that moment, ‘so I settle for informally calling him Tyrry instead, though that should be enough to sate the greed of a lion surely? A Lannister always pays their debts after all’_

_For only a mere second the flash of recognition appeared in his brother’s green eye before it disappeared in to the black of the other, Jaime felt a creep of worry that Tyrion was ever the investigative type to look into such a statement more thoroughly – so like their father Tyrion was despite himself, though that lasted only a moment before his brother came over offering his son up for Jaime to hold._

_In those first days Jaime had been more hesitant with Tybolt than he was with his Joan, the boy cried too much to be a boy and he was much too solemn for any babe otherwise, but like all feelings of distance for Jaime, with time and love it faded._

_‘She said you were the best man in all the seven kingdoms’ Tyrion murmured as he placed Tybolt gently into Jaime’s arms, ‘I doubted her once but now I know, a Sarsfield is always true to the mark little one’ he cooed affectionately to the babe that had taken to frowning at them curiously, ‘and a Lannister always pays their debts’_

His brother’s eyes bore into his with a love and promise Jaime had only ever wished to see in the eyes of their sister – though he had seen it many times in the eyes of a princess;

_‘I will not leave him’ he remembers her cursing though the savages tried to pull her away, ‘Jaime? Jaime please –‘_

_‘Ellie’ he groaned, struggling to find his bearings as his head pounded with pain, some bastard hit him over the head –_

_‘Jaime, Gods be good, you’re okay’ Elia cried as she frantically went to reaching for him through the bars, though he couldn’t seem to move his body from the wet stone floor – must have been a good hit_

_‘Fire’ Jaime managed once his hand had a shaking grasp of her outstretched one; ‘fire –‘_

_‘Hush sweet lion’ she murmured sadly, though her voice was still so strong and reassuring, ‘you will be safe here Jaime, it will be safe –‘_

_‘Where are you going?’_

_‘My children’ Elia pleaded, a broken woman bent on her knees, crying over his hand as though someone like him was ever worthy of her tears, ‘my children need me Jaime, I need to take them away from here –‘_

_‘Away? Away where –‘_

_‘I don’t know yet, I must admit, I am putting much faith in people I have little knowledge of but trust is not something easily won from a snake’ Elia smiled in that warm way she had, brushing his bloodied gold hair from his face, ‘you know that Ser Lion’_

_‘Take me with you’ Jaime had begged after a soothing silence had fallen between them, others would have seen it as a valiant oath, a broken shield swearing his life to a worthy princess, but others would be wrong –_

_‘Save me as well’ were what his eyes had truly implored, as desperate tears ran down his face_

_‘You will find happiness here Jaime, I do not know when, and I cannot tell you how, but if I take you with me I will be damning you to a fugitive’s life’ her eyes searching his for understanding, for acceptance, ‘I will be disgracing you as I must disgrace myself, and I cannot and will not dishonour my one true knight, Ser Lion, I outright refuse’_

_‘Do not try and make this curse you bestow me with seem like a gift, princess’ Jaime had spat indignantly, so was the pride of a hurt lion – but Elia understood that, she always understood_

_‘Then do not promise me your heart, Ser Lion, when it already belongs to another’ she whispered mischievously as though they had gone back to playing some game, he supposes if he had more control he wouldn’t have chuckled at that – but Jaime Lannister seemed to have little control as of late_

_‘A promise is a promise’ his should be Queen smiled knowingly as she pulled him in to one final comforting embrace, cold iron bars separating them where perhaps it should have been propriety – but fuck it, when the walls burn all around you and the black of smoke blocks out the heavens, who gives a shit about propriety_

_‘Promise me you will keep this a secret Jaime, let them believe what they wish about the fate of Elia Targaryen and her children, let them have their crowns and their thrones, please Jaime’ her voice growing more desperate and rushed with every word, the wildling woman he assumed was now wed to the Red Viper grunting at her with an urgency to go;_

_‘Pretty little lion’ she had called him on one of the nights Jaime had snuck the Queen and Princess Rhaenys in to the Black Cells to see Elia, her words had been more venomous than pleasant – so reminiscent to the man she would marry_

_‘Promise me Jaime, promise me you will help set us free, I’ve kept your secrets’ Elia said with a reverence that reminded him of her heritage, a descendant of warrior Queens, her hand catching hold of the black silk loosely tucked into his treacherous white armour, pulling it from its hiding place to press it firmly into his hand_

_‘Now you keep mine’_

Aye the look of true loyalty, respect and understanding looks much the same in cat like eyes as black as night, as it does in mismatched eyes, contorted but still so beautiful to him. For that Jaime Lannister will be a liar, he will be an oath-breaker and a craven. He had thought once that this was what friendship was, for blood is chosen for you despite yourself by Gods long before you ever existed, but friendship, that was made of something entirely different and yet none the less as strong. Where family was forged with blood, friendship was forged with steel, for steel can be tested, steel can be met – though steel can also be unbreakable, where blood has already been spilt and forgotten

Friendship wasn’t exactly something he was joyful for though nay, just another concern in the back of his mind to keep him up at night really, sure he was a Lord now, sworn only to the wrath of his father – though hadn’t that always been so? And the mercy of his ever sorrowful king but Jaime had found little happiness here, some would say he once had a beautiful wife, and for true he did, Melodie was more beautiful than most of the women in this realm combined, but that could never compare to Cersei.

Jaime would never find happiness in anyone but his sister, he had tried, Gods how he tried, though it seemed not even a princess could fully relinquish the hold of a lioness;

_Rhaegar had left them in Dragonstone not two days before, Aerys had commanded that the future Prince Aegon be born in the very chambers the conqueror he was named for had been, if everything went as Aerys had desired the Princess would’ve given birth on the great table that mapped the dragons’ conquest of Westeros – but we should thank Gods not everything went the way the mad King had desired_

_Queen Rhaella had objected of course, she claimed Elia was unfit to travel across sea whilst pregnant – though anyone could see that was only an excuse, the island was fortified by jagged black rocks and rough stormy seas, though it was meant to serve as the Targaryen ancestral home, it was nothing more than an even smaller prison for the king to keep his royal blood._

_The Queen had become increasingly more depressed since the birth of Prince Aegon, sometimes he would catch her staring into the storm, clutching at her own growing womb as tears would well in her amethyst eyes. Sometimes he would find her in the nursery with the children, holding on to them as though the Gods had wished to take them away, and then again sometimes she was Rhaella Targaryen, a Queen far stronger than any you would ever read about in any history book, a woman more worthy of any crown than her lizard of a brother_

_Strength seemed to come in abundance to women wed to Targaryen men, though most had come from strong blood anyhow, whatever knowing resolve kept the Queen from taking her own life had rubbed off onto her good-daughter. Both of them seemed to dread the coming day more than any nightmare, though Elia seemed to be preparing for it where Rhaella was leaving it to the Gods_

_‘Tell me I am wrong Ser Lion’ Elia had demanded like she were a Queen on her throne, though truly, she was but a woman on her sick bed, ‘tell me that doing this is wrong, that it is treason against a king who is worthy to be called so, and I swear it to you, I shall stay my hand now’_

_Elia had been murmuring curses of frustration to herself as she threw yet another scrunched parchment onto the floor with annoyance. Jaime had only picked it up to cast it in to the fire as she had commanded its predecessors to be, though this time he caught sight of a word he could read;_

_**Stark** _

_Nature dictates that cats and dogs do not often align themselves to the same cause, so likewise, a Lannister should always keep a watchful eye on a Stark – though the vice versa should be said with more emphasis. Their argument had started off with simple questioning; ‘which ‘Stark’ do you write to and why?’ But that had quickly escalated into what was now a breathless yet enraged princess and a roaring yet yielding lion;_

_‘I cannot tell you that and you know it, but what you do Elia is treason none the less, if Aerys finds out –‘_

_‘How will he Jaime, will you tell him?’ she suddenly turned, her voice half way between a purr and a hiss for it sounded so alluring you would follow it into the dark – more like a snake she was in moments like this than either of her brothers._

_‘You know I wouldn’t!’ he snapped indignantly, how dare she even question it? Elia had won his loyalty (though he gave it reluctantly) when she looked into his soul and read the truths he kept hidden – when she found a way into his heart and saw it held only Cersei, Elia won his unconditional silence_

_‘Then help me find the words to say to Rickard Stark so the man doesn’t bring war and winter to our door –‘_

_‘No Elia!’ Jaime denied through a hushed roar, the harshness of it in the tone rather than the volume, ‘had you of asked me to help you find the words to convince Rhaegar to stay, I would’ve found you a thousand! Had you of asked me to kill the fucking king, I would’ve found a way –‘_

_‘Hush sweet lion –‘she cooed worriedly though Jaime would have none of it_

_‘No princess **you** hush! How could you just let him go and then do this?’_

_‘You just wouldn’t understand Jaime’ she sighed helplessly, her curtain of black hair falling over her face as she stared down at her ink blotched hands_

_‘Tell me the truth and I will understand’ he said hoping these words would achieve the same results for him_

_She had said those very words to him once in yet another heated debate; the argument had begun much the same, something as small as;_

_‘Ser Lion, if you would kindly take this book and read a story to my children tonight in my place, I would be most thankful’_

_It had escalated into so much more than just a simple bed time story to a child, ‘No’ he had said because how the fuck was he meant to read that book to the little princess when he couldn’t tell you what most of the words were if you tortured him. Princess Rhaenys weren’t like most children no, she didn’t read little books with more pictures than words; she read old tomes with thousands and thousands of words, not a single picture in sight. Four maesters, ten lashes, his beloved mother and all the patience the old lion could muster could not teach Jaime Lannister to read – but where they had perhaps failed a dornish princess had almost succeeded_

_Elia had offered those words to him with a tone of empathy and kindness – so like his mother had when she taught Jaime to write his own name, Joanna died not three moons after. Jaime hoped his tone sounded much the same, this princess deserved kindness in these days of late, she got little of it here on the desolate Dragonstone, and few throughout the kingdom knew how she deserved it anyhow._

_‘I do not love my husband as I should, and for that, I will always feel guilty’ she finally croaked, Jaime fought off the urge to scoff; ‘oh so you let him just run off with his mistress then’, and instead took up a seat on her bed to listen_

_‘But I know him Jaime, I know him better than he could ever know himself, and know that when I tell you this I say it with truth and finality’ her voice taking it’s gentle yet commanding tone, so like the sun, ‘Rhaegar Targaryen is a good man, he is my best friend and for that I am most thankful. He is as wise and merciful, as I am told his grandfather and great grandfather were before him, I know in my heart he is going to be such a good King to his people, I can feel his love for them Jaime I swear it’_

_Tears patted down onto her lap as she started to tremble ever so slightly. Elia was skinny and gaunt now and the cold winds of Dragonstone ripped through her tiny form viciously, her skin was sickly yellow and tired grey and yet to him she was still so strong, crying her tears for mercy like the statue of the mother in the great sept_

_‘Why do you trust me so?’ he wanted to ask for the hundredth time but didn’t, for she would only ask him the same with an even more knowing smirk_

_‘He believes in these dreams and prophecies more than he believes his own name!’ she cursed, defiant rage pouring from her eyes with hot tears, ‘he cannot eat, he cannot sleep, he is plagued Jaime, you know this’_

_He did of course, Jaime was the one always standing at her chamber doors when Prince Rhaegar would come in the pitch black of night, he was the one listening to him cry for the hours afterwards, ‘stop’, ‘no’, ‘please’ Rhaegar would beg, though his whimpers were swiftly soothed by his wife no doubt_

_‘I do not wish to think him mad Jaime, I want so much to believe his prophecies for him’ her hand waving to the side table that was stacked with ancient books and scrolls of documented history, ‘but the more I try to see with his logic, the more I find him to be wrong, though I know he cannot see so himself’_

_‘Do I even want to know what this prophecy is?’ Jaime smirked, hoping to cut through the tension that had started to build, he didn’t cope well in these kinds of situations, and Jaime had a tendency to speak before thinking with this princess, so sarcasm was his safest reaction_

_‘I don’t think the characters of the tale need to be told the story, Ser Lionknight’ Elia murmured softly though the sadness in her smile made her seem far too haunting_

_‘I don’t think so either’ he replied reassuringly, surprising even himself with how gentle he was being – this serpent princess is intrusive you see, imposing her demeanour on others despite themselves_

_‘I had to let him be Jaime, I had to let him go, but I will not and can not let people die for our follies. Rhaegar will take Lyanna Stark’ she suddenly declared, more confidently than she had spoken any words of late, ‘she will birth Rhaegar a son and the third head to his dragon, and his song will be one of ice and fire’ a worried crease deepening in the centre of her brow_

_‘Pray with me sweet Lionknight, that his song is well worthy of such an introduction’_

_Jaime would never really understand her – even to this day he questioned her motives, but something in him told him she was right, his instincts told him she was good, and Jaime had always been such a sucker for the brave, honourable and innocent._

_‘You intrude upon me like no one else, princess’ he said with a defeated grunt as Jaime stood to retrieve her more paper for her treasons_

_‘I truly doubt that Ser Lion’ she mused more to herself than him, her hypnotizing eyes causing a nervous stir in Jaime though there was little need for it with Elia, she knew the truth, she had taken it from him unwillingly;_

_‘I know how you miss your family Ser Lion, but I cannot write to them for you if you cannot tell me what to say’_

_They had gone to the dark of her study in the midst of the night for the last week; Aerys had planned for them to leave for Dragonstone on the morrow, so the princess took advantage of the facilities offered in the Keep as much as possible. Sometimes she would simply read, as he drew tiny pictures to symbolise words – Elia had been teaching him to read using pictures in place of words for some time, for example a two towered keep with a large arched gate was often used in place of the word ‘castle’, though a red version of the same picture symbolised ‘the red keep’, it was childish and shameful but it worked_

_This night however Elia had taken to writing intricate letters destined for Dorne. They would have little opportunity to send ravens from Dragonstone, Aerys would no doubt be keeping surveillance of any messages going to and from the island, and the princess had so been wanting to see her older brother in days before giving birth to her son, a disappointment Jaime could understand all too well, for Gods he missed his Cersei so._

_Jaime had asked Elia to write home for him too, though truly he only wanted to write to his sister. What truth could he say though through someone else’s hand? How could he tell Cersei how much he loved her, how much he missed her, how much he yearned to be with her forever more, when it was Elia’s hand that would write the words?_

_‘I only truly wished to write to my sister’ he blurted, sounding too guilty of some crime to simply be overlooked_

_‘Well, you are twins; it is understandable that you are much closer to her’ she offered reassuringly, ‘Oberyn and I have little difference between our ages –‘_

_‘It’s not the same’ he snorted under his breath, internally chastising himself for having use of his tongue; ‘Just shut up’ his mind pleaded his lips_

_‘How so Ser?’ Elia purred tauntingly, aiming only to get a reaction from him no doubt, ‘Oberyn would happily lay down his life for me, in fact I dread a day my brother outlives me for truly, he will be a wrathful man. I love my brothers with a fierceness that I doubt even a lion could have Ser –‘_

_‘Oh do you now’ he near spat, angry enough to forget that she is his princess and he her sworn shield, but no one would denounce Jaime’s love so, not when it had caused him such torment_

_‘Aye’ Elia hummed with a sly smirk, annoying him more with her playful nature when she was offending him so, ‘actually I believe in the time you have been here Ser, you have received but three letters, all from your younger lord brother. It would seem your sister has little love for you –‘_

_‘How the fuck would you know!?’ He roared angrily, shocking Elia into silence – this was obviously not her desired reaction, ‘You who have only spread her legs for duty and propriety, who knows no love and receives only friendship –‘_

_‘Jaime –’ she tried reaching him with her voice, as her hand hesitated in the air before him_

_‘What could a woman shamed for a cold northern girl know of love when her husband found it in another?’_

_‘I – I’ve hurt you’ she stammered, a slight blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks, ‘I meant no harm’_

_‘Of course you didn’t’ he snorted, still angry even though this princess looked at him so apologetically_

_‘You love her’ Elia whispered understandingly as she waved her hand gracefully before Jaime’s face, as though she was moving aside an invisible veil that hid his true self, ‘I see that now’_

_He had thought for a moment if she truly understood she would not be looking at him so, nay Elia would have the same look of disgust his mother had when she had found her twins touching each other in bed one morning, she would think him foul, she would think him cursed but that wasn’t Elia no, Elia was cheeky, she was witty, she was funny and Gods she was intrusive –_

_‘Moons before I was ever to wed, I offered myself to a second son of a lesser house’ the princess suddenly whispered in the playful way she had when conspiring to mischief and secrecy, ‘he would not take my maidenhead, but my body found it’s pleasure in his none the less’_

_Jaime was stricken with shock from her words, his jaw hung as if unhinged and the blood rushed up his neck making his usual golden tan no doubt a closer shade to red, but Elia just giggled prettily hiding her smile behind her delicate hands though her eyes danced with a mirth he found to be infectious_

_‘My heart belongs to another still, as it seems your heart does too. If we had the ability to choose who governs our love Ser Lion, well I’m sure we would decide differently but in the end, we all have our secrets ’ she assured as he could only remain in stunned silence, ‘you keep mine and I’ll keep yours’_

She had been trying to win his heart he realised, when Elia had begun this hopeless crusade of hers, Jaime couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps it was the day he was made her sworn shield, though he supposed it was more likely the day she finally saw him worthy of such a post. Either way, it mattered not, even now after a wife who was loyal and children who are perfect, his heart still cries for Cersei, even when she remains so indifferent to him – 

He wonders perhaps if that’s why it’s so easy for him to aid a dornish princess so, his father’s wrath had surprisingly installed little fear in him for a change, and the worry of what his sister would think faded more with her ongoing silence – only once at the tourney in Highgarden had Cersei sought him out, though that was only after Rhaegar had denied her and her own lord husband was passed out from the alcohol she had no doubt corrupted with sleeping powders. Jaime hadn’t really cared though, he missed Cersei so much he would’ve fucked her in the Tyrell’s bed if the boy was awake or not.

Elia was the only person he’d ever told the truth to – though he did so unknowingly, and she was the only person to ever try and understand him, his mother, his wife, hells even Cersei had never given him the opportunity to really explain himself, to truly defend his honour. With Elia he hadn’t needed to, he could see something in her dark endless eyes that he had never seen before in another; acceptance, true acceptance. For she had seen what was in his heart and yet she still believed it to be gold; ‘my lion knight’ Elia had dubbed him with her knowing smile; ‘my sweet lion knight with his pure heart of gold’

She was his friend he would admit to himself in moments like these, when he sat at his desk in the dark of night composing a message of poorly written words to fly off wherever they go on the wings of the whitest raven. 

Elia Nymeros Martell was his friend, the only friend he’s ever had all his life yet still, his father would never allow it, oh no, if Tywin Lannister had the slightest inkling what Jaime was doing and had done in the years past, Tywin would swiftly denounce him, cast him off to live life as an exile, if not execute his own son himself. Though that mattered not to Jaime truly, shared blood with a cruel father mattered not, Cersei’s annoyance for not being told the whole truth mattered not. The only thing he knew for sure was; ‘A Lannister always pays their debts’ – Tywin had drilled that into Jaime himself when he was but a small boy. In his own opinion Jaime Lannister had an endless debt to Elia Nymeros Martell, for true friends as the two of them are, are indeed indebted to each other’s kindnesses eternally;

‘Beware my friend’ his hand struggled to write as he dragged the quill across a small parchment, ‘the lions are coming’


	21. Lyanna V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay if anyone is even bothered enough to still be reading this I am so sorry for the slow update. Real life has been too hectic to indulge myself with much reading or writing for that matter. I’d like to give a special thanks to Calimaiden who had helped me with ideas and editing for this particular chapter months ago. So sorry to have kept you waiting especially.
> 
> But anyway –
> 
> Please take note that this chapter and the last were only a few days apart – for clarity Elia was due to arrive in Dorne on the mark of the New Year but – well you’ll see   
> 

Lyanna Targaryen – 287AL the Red & Black Keep, King’s Landing

King’s Landing was alive with something other than treachery and debauchery for once, for this day marked the beginning of a New Year and Neddy Bear’s birthday – though only she was sure to celebrate the latter in this city of sin.

Lyanna had often wondered if anyone still called her _Lord_ brother ‘Neddy Bear’ though she figured the name had died when –

‘No,’ she chastised herself. ‘Today is about new beginnings and happiness; don’t let yourself dwell.’

But Gods have mercy, how could she help it? Father and Bran were murdered, Ben was purging himself at the Wall and Ned – he might as well be lost to her too.

Benny Bunny had risen in the ranks of the Night’s Watch faster than she had ever hoped – truly Lyanna had prayed he would never be deemed capable of being a ranger, sent into isolation in an endless wasteland of winter. Yet still, Ben managed to write to her. One letter had even come from the _Frostfangs!_ Gods bless her sweet Ben! But Ned –

He hadn’t written once since she’d given birth to her still son. Nothing personal, no comforting brotherly gestures, nothing! And even before that, Ned had become increasingly formal in his letters until eventually they would arrive written in someone else’s hand entirely – Catelyn Tully’s no doubt.

In her darker moments Lyanna would think horrible things of her good-sister; monstrous and hypocritical thoughts.

‘She hates me, its plain enough for anyone to see! She thinks I took her uncle and in revenge she takes my brother’. 

Sometimes Lyanna was even cruel enough to wonder if it was perhaps her Bran who Catelyn Tully mourns, for her sweet, solemn Ned did not have the charm to win a woman their oldest brother had long ago claimed.

Such thoughts were quickly scorned and cast aside however, if Lyanna hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she would’ve questioned what love her brother had for his new wife. But at her own ‘formal’ wedding ceremony Lyanna saw it clear as day in her solemn brother’s eyes;

_It was Ned and Ben that presented her to Rhaegar that day. As a young girl she had envisioned her father guiding her happily through the Godswood as Bran waited for her on his knee before the heart tree – they had been innocent hopes, dreams that were as naïve as she remained for many years to follow. But once she understood the **duties** of a wife to her lord husband, Lyanna had been utterly disgusted with herself, choosing instead to dream of her father holding her firmly by the arm, silently refusing to give his only beloved daughter to any man, lord or not. Her brave Bran would be standing in front of them, with the vicious snarl of a direwolf spread across his face, wielding his giant long-sword in one mighty hand and beating on his chest with the other, challenging the would be suitor to meet his death by the end of his sword –_

_But those were only dreams for a girl innocent of Lyanna’s crimes._

_In reality, her wedding was a ceremony that danced on the graves of her father and brother, that laughed in the face of every man fallen in wars started by her follies, Robert’s Rebellion and Doran’s Defiance had both been ripple effects of her actions after all – though the latter was not known to the realm then. It was a disgrace for this parade to even have half of the flamboyance that it did. Lyanna had quickly learned however that both Rhaegar’s Grand Maester and High Septon were more ostentatious than the second half of their titles would usually dictate. Back then she had been naïve enough to think perhaps they did not see the slight in planning something so elaborate – though that was **back then**._

_The Great Sept of Baelor had remained completely untouched by the flames. Worshippers of the faith took it as a sign of their gods’ authenticity, though they all seemed completely ignorant to the fact that the tiny Godswood she held her faith in had also survived Aerys’ madness, hence such claims validated nothing in Lyanna’s eyes._

_The Old Gods were the Gods of every Stark before her; they were the ones she prayed to, the ones she worshipped – the ones she defiled. The Old Gods held few traditions; in fact there were almost none other than saying prayers, oaths and marriage vows in the presence of a heart tree, the Old Gods required little worship from their followers – not like the southern Seven._

_There are few commandments her gods dictate, the few laws that all Gods seemed to have in fact;_

_Laws of hospitality were among the most sacred to a man in the north, defiling such sanctions could only be remedied with death or dishonour._

_Incest was forbidden and taboo to her people, so much so even the wildlings beyond the Wall still do not steal women from their own camp. The Targaryens hold little power above the neck truly, for though northern lords seemed more true to their vows than any in the south, they were also more true to their Gods. Her ancestor the great Torrhen Stark, the last King of Winter was reduced to the mere ‘King Who Kneeled’ when he bent his knee to three fire breathing dragons. He had done the right thing, the honourable thing, and yet in the eyes of the north he had lost his Gods when he swore himself to an inbred – though no man was brave enough to say so in the presence of his descendents._

_Slavery was another great offense, for to take a man against his will was to take him from his Gods, and oh how her Gods could be so vain! One could argue such commandments could are so for the sake of the man enslaved, but Lyanna knew better than that. Her Gods were unmerciful after all – forever the laughing trees._

_Kinslaying was of course the most heinous crime in the eyes of all gods; old and new. To kill ones own kin, to lead them into peril, no crime could ever be greater than that._

_Lyanna was of course guilty of all of these crimes; she knew that. She had used the refuge of Dorne for her pleasures with Rhaegar – conceived their Jon in the false peace they found, and she had slighted the royal dornish family in the process. It was an act that earned Rhaegar a rebellion but how could she deny the dornish that right?_

_She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, not now after everything that had happened –_

_Children, young maids and women had been enslaved in the chaos of war. Some were raped, killed and cast aside, where some were subjected to crueller fates as pleasure slaves in the east. Lyanna had been oblivious to this in the beginning of course. She had seen orphans, widows and dead but never slaves – as little comfort as that was, she had never deprived men of their freedom –_

_Had she?_

_Lyanna could only laugh bitterly at the thought of incest. No Stark had ever lain with another Stark, ever! She would swear her life to it! And yet she could not tell you how many times she’d given herself to a product of incest, in the truest sense of the word; the son of a brother and a sister, the father of her only son, the only man that’s ever had her in such a way –_

_‘Oh Rhaegar, how blissfully unaware I ran into sin with you’_

_All of these sins she could have forgiven with time. She was strong enough now to ride through King’s Landing with nothing but a cold look of indifference. She did not shudder, or whimper or shed a single tear anymore, not even in the face of children she had left orphaned._

_But Papa –_

_Bran –_

_Lyanna could never forgive herself for them. It was selfish she knew, to mourn the loss of her own so fiercely when she had caused the loss of Gods, so many others! But how can you make your heart beat any way other than how it chooses?_

_She had cried walking down the aisle. She cried for it was not her papa that gave her to the man she couldn’t help but love. She cried for Brandon was not standing at the altar behind Rhaegar, with his sword in his hand and a threatening smirk spread across his face. She cried and she faltered though Ned guided her reassuringly, murmuring his gentle whispers in her ear as Ben looked at her with the knowing empathy of a little brother_

_“Hush sweet sister, this is what you want, isn’t it?” Neddy had asked her worriedly, for even after the war, even after losing Robert and bending his knee, Ned would still defy Rhaegar for her, Ned would always protect her – at least he always had_

_“It is,” she whimpered through tears of guilt and shame, for truly Rhaegar was all her heart ever really wanted, regardless of how she resisted it so._

_“Then come sweet Lya, let your love mend your heart.”_

_Her eyes had snapped wide with awe as she gaped at her sweet Ned. It was not as though her brother were a heartless man. Nay, Ned was born of the kindest stock the Stark blood had to offer for sure, his heart was true as solid gold, but gentle like the soft falling snow – and yet no one would ever be able to see this through the dark of his unwavering silence._

_Sweet, solemn Neddy Bear, since when had you found such words to say?_

_Lyanna had been gazing at him so long she had not realised they had reached the marble stairs that ascended to her place next to Rhaegar until she found herself stumbling on the first step. Her eyes had been too dedicated to committing that very image of her brother in the banks of her memory for all time_

_He had looked so soft under the coloured light of the stained glassed window, his face no longer the mask of ice he had been wearing throughout the earlier formal processions, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as a warm blush rose to his usually pale cheeks, yet though her eyes belonged to him, his eyes looked on to another_

_Catelyn Tully, nay, **Stark** , sat demurely with her hands in her lap, back straight though her poise still seemed so graceful, dressed elegantly in Stark grey and mourning black – ha! ‘Mourning black!’ How ironic that everyone in that Sept wore such a colour in some small way._

_Catelyn stood out in the Great Sept with a hundred guests. Aye, her good-sister would stand out in crowds of millions for true, with her fire red hair and striking blue eyes, how could anyone overlook the new Lady of Winterfell?_

_It was then she saw it, nay she **felt** it, the connection between the two, a soft smile appeared on Catelyn’s lips as her eyes lowered with a flutter and her blood flushed to her cheeks, a half chuckle half huff escaping from her brother as he turned his eyes back to the sister he had forgotten about completely if only for one moment._

_‘They are in love,’ Lyanna knew, though she kept such thoughts to herself, and though the pain of Bran and father was still a fresh wound to her heart, she could still feel a new pain at the small loss of yet another loved one – though her joy for Ned vastly outweighed it_

It was that tiny hint of a feeling that made any doubts Lyanna had about her good-sister vanish. Catelyn had a heart as beautiful as her exterior. If not, her brother would not have fallen for her so, after all Ned was always the wisest of their pack.

“Your Grace,” the familiar voice of Barristan Selmy beckoned from beyond her chamber door. Lyanna huffed at the formality as she rose from the seat at her window to march over to the door with an indignant stomp.

“I’ve told you once, I’ve told you twice, Gods help me I’ve told you a million times Barristan!” she declared as she swung the door open violently, “In this tower you address me as Lyanna, say it Lee-ah-nah”

“Forgive me,” he smiled, for he knew this song and dance too well, “Lya”.

“Better” Lyanna chirped, suddenly much happier than before, her feigned sporadic behaviour earning her a rare chuckle from her most loyal and dutiful knight, as she knew it would. 

“Now tell me Barristan” she asked with a cock of her brow, “where is my son?”

“My prince specifically asked for Ser Arthur this morning, it seems I am being replaced.”

“Oh Barristan,” Lyanna almost giggled as the bold knight before her seemed to morph into nothing but an abandoned pup, “you cannot believe such things surely?”

“This is the seventh day in a row –“

“Oh hush you silly old man!” Lyanna murmured affectionately as she pulled her defeated knight into her embrace, the sadness in his eyes killing any laughter she had though her amused smile would not fade even as she willed it to disappear.

“Jon adores you like no other, you have been his sworn guard almost all his life –“

“Aye, though he sees Arthur more as a champion where as I am nothing but an old man to read him stories –“

“You are like a grandfather to him Barristan!” Lyanna tried to reassure though she knew almost instantly she had said the wrong words. “A strong, older man, who is formidable and grounding –“

“Weak and feeble –“

“Ha!” she scoffed. “Weak and feeble? You are Barristan the Bold! One of the greatest and most renowned knights in all the land, no one would dare think of you Ser in such a way!”

“You are too kind my Queen,” Barristan huffed in defeat, surrendering only because he knew any battle against her was one that was best lost, not because he was convinced by her argument.

“I am only honest,” Lyanna replied affectionately – if such a tone of harshness could be called affection – as she took his arm and descended the spiral stairway of her tower.

She had found much comfort in Barristan during her years in King’s Landing. He reminded her so much of her father, with his wise but gentle words and his sad, lonely eyes. There had been more nights than she could remember where she had taken refuge in Barristan’s embrace, crying her tears of regret and woe like a little girl without a father – a little girl who killed her father.

“Your Grace,” the cold voice of Lyn Corbray addressed from the bottom of their descent. Rhaegar had probably sent him as an extra guard being as paranoid as he was during festive times, though Lyanna couldn’t bring herself to be thankful for it. There was something incredibly wrong with that man.

“What is it you want, Ser?” She returned in a tone that was ten times more frozen than his.

“What I want is of little importance to you my Queen,” he half snorted, half hissed, though he kept it hidden well enough behind a beautifully twisted smirk. “I am here by order of our King, your Grace.”

‘Not by choice,’ Lyanna silently added, ignoring the man as she strode straight past him.

Barristan didn’t like Corbray either she knew, though Barristan admitted he had little reason to hold any disdain towards his sworn brother, he had told her of this ‘gut feeling’.

_”Your – I mean – my Quee, Ly – Lyanna” Barristan called unsure of himself as he knocked softly on her door. He was still not used to being so familiar with ‘his Queen’_

_“What is it Barristan?” She called in a panic. It was the first night her and Jon had slept in separate towers. If anything happened to her Jon – she simply couldn’t bare to think of it._

_“Forgive me, my Queen,” he apologised upon seeing how frantic she was, as Lyanna all but tore the door from its hinges. “I never meant to alarm you so –“_

_“Well what is it Barristan, is Jon –“_

_“Fine my Queen, I assure you.”_

_“Well good grief man! What else brings you to a married woman’s chamber at this hour of the night?”_

_Her suggestive teasing earned its desired effect as Barristan blushed from head to toe a crimson red reminiscent to that of house Lannisters, his voice repetitively failing him as he stammered for words._

_“Come now ser, I only jape,” she gave, as the poor man seemed too overwhelmed and embarrassed to find words of his own. “Tell me Barristan, what bothers you so much that you’ve strayed from your duties to come to my chamber?”_

_“Forgive me my Queen, I know it is not my place to judge –“_

_“Oh enough Barristan, out with it already!”_

_“It is Ser Corbray,” he huffed as he took his usual seat on the corner of her bed. “I do not … trust him”_

_“I understand how some of the Kingsguard may feel towards their new brother, believe me, Arthur gave me enough of his opinion on the matter the night Lyn was inducted –“_

_“This is not the same my Queen,” Barristan interrupted with a shake of his head, ‘Lewyn was more my brother than any of the men that remain in the guard and yet, I can understand killing a good man during times of war –“_

_“So what is it then Barristan? You barely know the man, give him a chance –“_

_“I cannot!” her knight objected with a sudden bout of defiance that was so out of character she was shocked into silence. “A long time ago my Queen I met the greatest man to ever don this cloak –”_

_‘You are the greatest man to ever don that cloak,’ she wanted to say, though she kept the argument to herself for once._

_“His name was Ser Duncan the Tall,” Barristan continued though his eyes seemed to have gone away to times of long ago. “He was the truest man one could ever hope to meet. I was honoured to have learned the few things I did from him and to this day I practice those lessons still.”_

_“As wonderful as that is for you Barristan, I’m not sure I understand –“_

_“Ser Dunk told me to always go with your gut instinct –“_

_“Gut instinct?”_

_“Aye, the feeling you get in the pit of your belly when something just doesn’t seem right.”_

_“So what does your gut tell you about Ser Lyn my friend?” She asked, truly curious at this stage as to how Barristan felt about his new brother. Lyanna held more faith in her son’s sworn shield than she did even in Arthur – her own sworn sword. If Barristan felt Lyn could not be trusted, then it simply must be so._

_“My gut tells me Lyanna,” his voice hardening in to a solemn and stern tone as his eyes bore in to hers. “Never leave that man alone with my prince.”_

It was his eyes that left her without doubt, for they were so sure of what they could see, how could she question it? Lyanna had hardly waited for the sun to rise – though Barristan had begged her to be patient and wait for the morrow – before she was bashing down Rhaegar’s door, demanding that Jon be left in the care of the man she trusted most and no one else. Rhaegar had reluctantly agreed of course, but that was only after she had kicked, screamed, threatened and cursed.

Still to this day, she imagines the blue of Barristan’s eyes whenever Lyn Corbray comes near her or Jon. The way the deep sadness in them made way long enough for a vibrant conviction, the way they hardened like the ice when the thought of Jon in danger crossed his train of thought – ‘Oh Gods be so cruel he is so like my papa!’ Lyanna thought. Aye, Barristan Selmy could sense something truly wrong with that man, and she believes him completely.

“Forgive me brother but are you not meant to be guarding Prince Jon?” Corbray questioned Barristan, though Lyanna would have none of it.

“Ser Arthur has the joy of guarding Jon today, I believe my son has dreams of becoming a _true_ knight,” she had hoped her snappy reply and suggestive tone would silence the man but he only gave a short snort and all but laughed;

“True knights don’t go around deflowering the ladies of the Reach –“

“You will watch how you speak to our Queen, boy!” Barristan growled though Corbray seemed completely unaware of what danger he was putting himself in.

“I was to believe our Queen appreciated the truth,” he said with a sly smile that was meant to feign innocence. “And the truth is no dornish man is a _true_ knight, your Grace. “

“Arthur Dayne is more of a knight and a man than you’ll ever be Lyn Corbray never think otherwise!” Lyanna snarled though that only seemed to amuse him more.

“So familiar with your sworn shield my Queen? How inappropriate –“

“Enough!” Barristan barked his intolerance for disrespect towards her showing in the fierce change of his stance. “You will not disrespect my Queen in my presence Ser! I suggest you find use of yourself elsewhere before I let this incident known to our King”

An empty enough threat she knew, for Rhaegar had defended her enough times and was outright scorned by his council men when he had learned of the things Lyanna herself had said first, hence her lord husband wasn’t so quick to defend his Queen anymore. It was true of course, Lyanna still had little control of her rage and thus was unable to conceal her contempt with eloquent words like the other lords and ladies of court, but she always had reason for the things she said, aye, no words Lyanna ever spoke were empty or without substance.

“I meant no disrespect of course your Grace,” Lyn apologized mockingly with a bow. “But if you do so insist, I shall find my uses elsewhere”

“I insist!” Lyanna snapped, glaring at the man with coldest stare she could muster.

“Gods I truly can’t stand him” she muttered to Barristan as she heard Lyn’s foot steps disappear in the opposite direction.

“Neither can I my Queen, neither can I.”

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

You could hear the cheers and applause before you could even see them, all of King’s Landing must’ve somehow made their way into the royal training yard just to watch their king spar his guards.

Jon’s beautiful voice had always been able to reach her, even in the most deafening of crowds, even if his words were not for her;

“Get him Arfar, get him!” he bellowed with all the might in his tiny lungs. Lyanna smiled as she watched her son brandishing his wooden play sword about as he all but hung over the barrier of the yard, sending Barristan into a panic that had him launching through the crowd, no doubt to prevent whatever harm he envisioned coming to his prince – sweet man.

It seemed Rhaegar and Arthur had once again teamed up to spar the Lord Commander, Oswell Whent and Ser Mandon Moore, though this time in particular they seemed to attract a crowd far more vast than ever before

“Rhaegar, behind!” Arthur roared as he blocked a devastating attack from Gerold Hightower, one that would leave most men either dead or unconscious

Her eyes went to Rhaegar as they always did – despite herself, he was tired she knew, his stance did not hold its usual form and his left arm looked to be growing heavy with the weight of his shield. He had been trying to train his right hand with a sword for almost a year now, spending as many hours in the yard as he did in his study, he was relentless in achieving his goals as usual, though this one seemed to be evading him.

“Rhaegar, duck!” Arthur bellowed from across the yard as he took the hammer from Mandon Moore’s fist and threw it directly at Oswell’s head

‘Ouch’ she shuddered in reaction, flinching at the impact it had on poor Ozzie’s helm. It surely must’ve hurt him but that didn’t stop her from chuckling anyway

“Ha! Did you see that Barristan!? Arfar hit Ozzie straight in the face!” Jon cried with all the bloodlust and enthusiasm a boy of four could muster

‘My little wolf’ Lyanna thought, not for the first time, though she hid her smile to correct her child as a good mother was meant to – but not necessarily as she wanted

“Come now Jon, it’s not kind to laugh at the misfortunes of others” she tried to chastise, though it was always to no avail 

“But mama, you were laughing, I saw you smile!”

“Well – yes” she admitted with a huff as Jon giggled at her in the way she imagined Brandon would’ve when he was just this age, “but Oswell is our friend, it’s okay for us to laugh at him –“

“You’re so silly mama” Jon laughed as he wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her into his strong little embrace

“But you’re sillier” she whispered in his ear as she tickled him into submission, “who do think will win?” she asked once his laughter had finally died

“Arfar and papa for sure, Arfar always wins”

“Arthur?” Lyanna questioned with a smile, she knew her little prince had become fond of the sword of the morning, but she did not realise he was quite so smitten

“Aye, Arfar has the biggest sword!” he answered with a near roar, as though swords and melee already brought out some kind of animalistic instinct in him. Lyanna watched as his eyes danced with tones of steel and silver, she could see him learning every foot step and every flourish as he held firm to the wooden sword in his own hand, his concentration never wavering as his mind remembered every manoeuvre.

‘He was made to be a warrior’ she tried to tell herself again, as though this was some kind of a sign against Rhaegar’s foolish prophecies, ‘not just a prince’

Lyanna didn’t understand it of course, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. If someone had of told her years ago that she would endanger the realm, so a pretty prince could fulfil a prediction from some mad forest woman, she would’ve laughed in their face, and yet here she was, fulfilling prophecies.

Every night she prayed Rhaegar’s madness would never infect their son; that the hero he envisioned would never come to pass and any glory he hoped for would be as dead as the many they killed in their wars. And yet Lyanna knew she still loved her husband, as cold as she had become she couldn’t deny that her heart still desired his happiness.

‘You do poison that love though lord husband’ she thought coldly as a glimmer of gold and green caught her eye, Cersei Tyrell was no doubt watching her lord king with the utmost devotion and admiration. The lion bitch made her sick! Poor Willas has been missing now for almost a moon and here’s the mother of his child and wife, plotting to replace him with another. And yet Rhaegar is so naïve as to think ‘she only wishes to aid me in the absence of her father’ – poor fool.

‘Take another wife my lord, perhaps her children will be good enough for you –‘

“Mama?” Jon beckoned, pulling her away from her more spiteful thoughts

“What is it sweet?”

“Why did they stop, did papa and Arfar win?”

“I have no idea son” Lyanna answered with the furrow of her brow, she hadn’t even realised they had stopped sparring till Jon mentioned it

“Who’s that man talking to papa?” Jon asked pointing to the fat, bald man, cloaked in deceiving robes of commoners brown

“That’s not a man son” Lyanna answered in a voice she hoped heeded warning, “that’s a spider”

\----------------------------------------------------------

The crowds had faded almost instantly, each maid singing praises to their king whilst swooning over the knight that served as his left hand as they made their leave;

‘Pathetic’ she internally mused with a roll of her eyes that Arthur seemed to notice from the other side of the court, for he was smirking at her as if he simply couldn’t agree more.

Arthur Dayne missed very little when it came to the royal family he was vowed to guard, he had been silently waiting in the shadows of her towers as she gave birth to Rhaegar’s sons, he had been witness to both of their weddings – and let us not forget Rhaegar’s first to Princess Elia Martell. Arthur had seen them fight, cry, love, rejoice, bring forth life and death yet still, she knew so little of him.

Oh for sure both she and Rhaegar had Arthur’s loyalty, friendship and perhaps even trust but they did not have his love, his heart had long ago sworn fealty else where, some where far off in the sun no doubt, and something about that bothered Lyanna more deeply than it aught to.

“Call the rest of my small council to meeting Lord Commander, have Lady Cersei notified to sit in place of her father but nothing else, I shall deliver the bad news to her myself” Rhaegar ordered as the squires deftly removed the armour that encased him, “and have Ser Davos Seaworth sit in place of Lord Baratheon, if what Lord Varys says is true, I expect Stannis’ delay is not due to bad sea weather”

“Yes your Grace”

“Arthur if you could find my lady wife I would be –“

“There’s no need” she announced, appearing out of the shadows of the yard

“Lya –“

“What need could you possibly have for me though my lord” she interrupted as she went to take the arm he had automatically extended for her, “I expect the Lady Cersei would be capable if not eager to fulfil my duties –“

“Enough of that Lya, please, I do need you present today” he half begged, “you will wish to be present, I assure you”

“I’ve never taken an interest in your game of thrones Rhaegar, why would I start now?”

“Lyanna” he sighed, as exasperated as usual, he always made her feel like a child in days of late, even when it was he who was becoming more mad with each passing moon, “please, the realm needs a Queen, I need a Queen. You will take the time to prepare for this meeting will you not?”

“Why, am I not pleasing enough for you my lord? Do I no longer look like a Queen of love and beauty?” she taunted, though her words seemed to hurt her more than they did him

“Come as you are my love for I see a Queen in you as always” Rhaegar murmured sadly as he placed a kiss on her cheek, his eyes searching for hers though she refused to meet his, as though denying him that was some kind of punishment in itself, “But understand it is not I who judges you and deems you unworthy”

“It is your court” Lyanna added under her breath, though she knew he heard it. His only answer was a melancholically apologetic smile that silently begged her to do this for him, before he turned to make his way to his study no doubt

“Arthur” she beckoned quietly, for she knew her guard was only over her shoulder, he always was

“What is it Lya?” he grunted as he sounded to be struggling with his armour, she had turned just in time to see the sword of the morning discard his chainmail to the ground with a huff and stand to his full height

“Gods” she breathed, lost for just one moment in the vastness of Arthur’s chest and the ripples of his muscled form, though she was quick to snap out of that daze and scorn herself once she realised he was looking at her like one of those pathetic women

“Can I help you my lady?” he laughed, winking at her as though she was just like his little flower girl, who still swooned over him even though she had now become Lady Connington of Griffin’s Roost.

“Piss off!” Lyanna snapped picking up a pail of water to empty on the cheeky sod 

“Now now, that’s no way for a Queen to behave” Arthur mocked, ducking only just enough to avoid the pail she had decided to throw at his head when the water lacked the ability to silence him.

They did this more often than not, japing and playing as though the entire court didn’t judge them, as though nothing in the world mattered but the present and the now. Gods she needed Arthur for this, perhaps she even loved Arthur for this – and she wasn’t entirely sure whether that were appropriate or not.

“You win” he surrendered after Lyanna threatened to launch an axe at him, she wouldn’t dare of course but that’s simply how they were. He reminded her so much of Brandon and yet so much of Rhaegar – back when her resentment didn’t cloud her judgement of her husband. 

“Your Prince seems to think you’re undefeatable Arthur Dayne, shall we show him otherwise?”

“Ha! My Prince seems to think his mother is a lady, shall we show him otherwise?”

“Bastard!” She roared with a laugh, chasing after him through the yard though she quickly tripped on her skirts

A titter of giggles from the stands near by reminded Lyanna of the ever prying eyes of court, as blissfully ignorant as she could be with Arthur, even he couldn’t hide them forever.

“Your Grace” the practiced courtesies of Cersei Tyrell addressed from behind her ever present flock of followers, “I expected to see you in small council? Or did our king not summon you?”

“My King wishes for the presence of my Queen always Lady Cersei” Arthur interrupted before Lyanna had a chance to tear into the bitch, “But a Queen is not so easily summoned”

“So it seems Ser” Cersei hummed, her eyes flashing with a strikingly predatory green as she took in Arthur’s half naked form. The lion bitch wasn’t like the other ladies of course; her lustful gaze belonged solely to her King. The way Cersei looked at them now was as though she had caught them mid affair, and as Lyanna took Arthur’s hand to stand she silently dared the whore to say her assumptions aloud.

“If I might take my leave, Your Grace,” the bitch said instead “a lady cannot deny her King as a Queen can”

“I’ll fucking kill her!” she snapped, when Arthur was the only one in hearing; “She dares to look at me like that, I should’ve thrown the fucking axe at her slutty face!”

“Calm yourself Lya, you have no need to be jealous –“

“Jealous!?” she laughed incredulously as though it was nothing but a joke; “If Rhaegar is so easily won she can have him! He is not the kind of prize she thinks he is!”

“Rhaegar is yours now whether you or Lady Cersei accepts that or not, he will not be won or lost for the indecisive desires of a woman Lyanna”

“You say that as though you can predict the future Arthur” she dismissed sarcastically, “have you been a seer all these years and I simply didn’t know?”

“There is much about me you wouldn’t know Lyanna, but why would you want to?” he said with a shrug of indifference – not knowing how that small gesture hurt her so.

“I suppose” Lyanna said with a huff she internally scorned as childishness, but a direwolf’s instinct is to snap at those that hurt them. “Still she’s likely to whisper rumours of an affair between you and I in her ever listening King’s ear –“

“Please!” Arthur laughed whole-heartedly as though it was simply the most comical thing he had ever heard in his life

“It’s true you damn fool!” she growled, looking around for something to throw at him as he all but fell into a laughing heap on the floor; “have you no care for what that kind of treason means for the two of us Arthur?”

“She can tell Rhaegar whatever she pleases Lyanna” he managed in his dying amusement; “She could tell him she found me naked between your legs and still Rhaegar wouldn’t believe her”

“And why not?! You know how he trusts her!”

“Because Rhaegar knows me and he knows I would never touch you, never in that way at least”

It was not so much his words, nor even the disgusted way he said it, it was more the way he looked her up and down as though she was less desirable than a stable boy that truly hurt Lyanna’s pride

“You have some nerve Arthur Dayne!” she snapped with a fury of a scorned woman; “Deeming me lacking where some dopey flower with more teats than intelligence seems quite enough for you –“

“What the hells –“

“Oh shut up stupid! You really don’t know anything sometimes!”

“I’ve offended you, I know that at least” Arthur tried; “but I really can’t see how?”

“Forgive me” she finally huffed, not really knowing how to explain the slight to him; “I’ve just been so edgy lately, with all these people coming to King’s Landing yet my family are still so far away –“ she trailed off, her mind wandering to Ned like it seemed to so often in these times of late

“Did you speak to the smithy Arthur? About the sword I wanted made for Ned?”

Arthur seemed to shudder at the question though he answered; “Aye, I had just retrieved it from Tobho when I was called to spar with Rhaegar. I left it in the White Sword Tower –“

“Well come then Arthur” Lyanna declared, suddenly somewhat excited – though she should’ve sensed then that she really shouldn’t be. “I shall ready myself as best as possible for Rhaegar’s blessed council and then make our way to retrieve Neddy bear’s sword before we make our appearance”

“If you wish it, your Grace” Arthur solemnly huffed, a look of empathy in the usual dark lilac of his eyes as he locked the final piece of his Kingsguard armour in place – a white cloak made of vows she was sure he regretted.

\--------------------------------------------------

It was beautiful she thought, from pommel to tip it was the most exquisitely crafted white valyrian steel sword she had yet to see, yet it was slightly too intricate for the Lord Paramount of the North she knew.

Ice had been the ancestral sword of House Stark for hundreds of years, the blade was taller than the length of her when she had last seen it, years ago in the Godswood with her father;

_”How could you!” she had roared at him as he silently cleaned the smoky grey blade in the black pool before the heart tree; “How could you betroth me to that man-whore and then just walk away from me!”_

_“You will watch how you speak in the presence of your Gods Lya” he chastised softly though his eyes remained firm on the water that trickled down the blade_

_“The Gods have damned me with a heartless father” she spat, completely ignoring the heart break she saw in her father’s eyes upon hearing her scorn; “You have forsaken me Lord Father, I at least deserve to know why?”_

_“Forsaken you dear one?” he smiled sadly though his eyes remained on the damn sword; “Never”_

_“Then why father!?” Lyanna pleaded as she threw herself at his feet, “You’ve heard the rumours, and he has already sired a bastard in the Eyrie!”_

_“And he shamed himself in doing so Lyanna –“_

_“So you shame me with him?!”_

_“I honour him with you” he whispered gently, gathering her in his arms as he did so, “and in making this match I hope he honours my wish for you to pertain your freedom”_

_“My freedom?” she asked with hopeful tears, hoping that her father had not so simply bartered her off like cattle to a trader_

_“Aye sweet one, your freedom” her father murmured pressing a kiss to the crown of her hair; “I failed to raise a daughter most lords would find fitting for a wife –“_

_“Perhaps you failed to raise a weak woman who would simply listen to any man” Lyanna retorted as she snuggled deeper into her father’s embrace, earning her the deep chuckle she had been yearning to hear all along_

_‘My papa, you haven’t abandoned me’ her heart sung_

_“Perhaps fair child, and perhaps that is no failure at all”_

_Lyanna thought perhaps her papa loved her more than any other father could possibly love their daughter. She had hoped he would love her so much in fact, he would deny any would be suitor her hand and keep her happily locked away in Winterfell forever. But Rickard Stark was an honourable and dutiful man, and Lyanna was simply fooling herself if she thought a man like her father would not uphold tradition. It was not until blissful moments of silence later that she realised her father had been cleaning his blade, a blade that always stayed in it’s scabbard unless honour, duty or tradition demanded otherwise;_

_“Why do you clean Ice papa, you normally do not take it from its sheath?”_

_“Blood rusts on a blade sweet one –“_

_“Blood” she had panicked; “what blood, whose blood?”_

_“Mine” he hummed raising his bandaged left arm, “Have no fear child, your heartless father has taken no lives this day”_

_“Oh you silly man” she scorned gently as she held his giant hand in hers, kissing it with the naïve hope that such a thing could in fact heal a man; “What have you done to yourself?”_

_“I made a blood sacrifice to the Old Gods sweet child –“_

_“Since when did the Old Gods ask for blood sacrifice?” Lyanna growled as she thoroughly assessed the bandages to assure they were indeed tight enough to stop the bleeding_

_“I know not truly my little one –“_

_“Then why the hell did you do it?!” She snapped, only to kiss his palms again with her next breath._

_“Your mother was more wild woman than lady dearest one” her father reminisced with a sad smile; “she knew the ways of the Children better than any mainland northerner, after all, your mother was from Skagos remember?”_

_“Yes papa” she answered, for she knew how serious her father was about imprinting their mother into their memories. Bran could remember her of course, even Ned could but Lyanna had near forgotten the woman that gave birth to her long ago, a fact that bothered her father far more than herself._

_“She believed in the old magic of the first men, long ago, when my heart still belonged to another, your mother taught me the Old Gods give nothing without asking for sacrifice first –”_

_“What did you say?!” Lyanna questioned, astounded by the words she thought she heard._

_“The Old Gods give nothing without –“_

_“Not that! Before that! The part where you said your heart belonged to another?”_

_“Aye?” he said with a chuckle; “Unmarried men have been known to love women before”_

_“Do not jape father!” she chastised; “Who was she? What happened to her? You didn’t sire any –“_

_“Good grief Lya, no! Had my first love fallen with child, I never would’ve let her leave me –”_

_“Leave?” Lyanna couldn’t help but ask though her father seemed hurt by the memory of his abandonment, her jealousy gave way long enough for her curiosity to get the better of her; “ **She** left **you**?”_

_“Aye” her father sighed, though she could not detect any sadness in his tone, not like when he spoke of her mother; “We had duties to the realm that quite literally opposed our desire to be together. She chose her duty as I chose mine, though a heart does not stop loving so easily -”_

_“But you were the only Stark of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North since you were no more than a boy of ten. Why would **she** deny **you**?”_

_“The same reason I suppose you deny Robert my sweet” he said with a shrug as he returned a clean Ice to its scabbard; “She wished to be free, she wished to go home”_

_“You are not the same as Robert papa!” Lyanna snapped as though she had to defend her father’s honour from his own unthoughtful remarks; “Robert Baratheon could never even hope to be the man that you are! And that woman” she spat, ignoring how her father seemed to chastise her with his stare; “Is without virtue and was a fool to abandon you, as you are just as much of a fool to do harm to yourself!”_

_“Perhaps so my child” he cooed affectionately, if a voice as deep as Rickard Stark’s could be said to coo; “but these were your mother’s ways and they have worked for me before, I pray they work again”_

_“What is it that you sacrificed your own blood for then?” she demanded impatiently, no longer wanting to hear of other women who once had the heart of her father_

_“My children” he had smiled, before looking back to the deep black pool now glistening with the faintest blood red, “For Brandon, my brave and wild wolf, I prayed he finds a love in his future lady wife that is fulfilling enough to keep him faithful and grounded. For Ned, my quiet and solemn son, I prayed he would find a love that would help him find his voice and worth, so he can learn to see himself as more than just a second son. For Benjen, my pup” her father said sadly with a shake of his head that seemed to banish faint tears “I prayed he would know I love him and have loved him forever and always”_

_“Oh papa!” she cried, not being able to contain her tears any longer when he looked on the brink of his own; “You are harder on Benjen, we all know that, but he knows you love him true enough! We all know you do!”_

_“Hush child, hush, I need no condolences or excuses” he murmured apologetically, it had always hurt her father to see her cry; “You my sweetest child, my precious little Lya” he whispered softly, suddenly more lovingly than when he spoke of his sons, “I prayed for a love that would set you free, yet one you would return to. I swore my life to the Old Gods if only they fulfilled those prayers my love, and I promise you, to me, it would be worth it”_

Silent tears had begun silently streaming down her face as she remembered the warmth and safety of her father’s strong embrace

“Lya” Arthur hesitated before placing a hand on her shoulder; “Is it not good enough for you your Grace?”

“Ha!” She half snorted half laughed at the jape; “It is more than enough for a Stark Arthur Dayne, Ice was far less ostentatious than this I can assure you”

“And that is what troubles you? You think it too much?”

“No” she sighed, allowing her disappointment to be heard in her distant tone; “Ice was forged for the legacy of my forefathers during the Age of Heroes” Lyanna recounted, as though she had had this history lesson from he father only mere days ago; “The pommel, the hilt and the blade were crafted in a grey valyrian steel that matched the direwolf of our insignia in the great ancient forges of Old Valyria itself. No sword could ever replace that kind of history.”

“No it cannot” Arthur said bluntly though his eyes looked at her more gently; “Dawn is the sword of my ancestors, it was given to the greatest warrior of House Dayne rather than the first born since it’s creation. It should be Aric’s” he added sadly, a look of worry and hurt crossing his usually expressionless face.

“Ice was the legacy of your forefathers as Dawn is the legacy of mine” Her sword of the morning continued as he drew said greatsword from the sheath spread across his back. Lyanna thought he’d always looked majestic whenever he drew his sword, like her Bran, it was as though Arthur was made for the sword. 

“Every day I carry the burden of this sword” he said in defeat as, holding Dawn in his hands as though it were something fragile; “and I can tell you, your Grace, it destroys me”

Lyanna thought for a moment she hadn’t heard him correctly, Dawn was surely the greatest honour bestowed to any dornish man, how could such a prize destroy him?

“The original bearer of this sword was my one of my distant great uncles; Uther ‘Pendragon’ Dayne” he elaborated as though he heard her silent question: “They say it was forged with old magic from the heart of a fallen star. He swore his life to protect the last Children of Dorne and in return they gifted him this” Arthur punctuated with a flourish, though he did so with a melancholic expression that his King often wore; “The means to eternally keep that oath”

“And you believe you do not live up to that legacy?” Lyanna asked before she really thought about it, ‘Of course he doesn’t you stupid fool, he has become an enemy to Dorne for you’

“It is no longer a legacy I am able to live up to”

“I – I’m so sorry Arthur –“

“Don’t be” he dismissed; “I betrayed the children of Dorne all on my own accord Lyanna, you need not burden yourself with blame that is not yours.”

“Still I –“

“You had nothing to do with my choice, as this conversation has nothing to do with the sword” Arthur said in the matter-of-fact kind of way he had when he had enough of small talk; “The ancestral sword Ice of House Stark has been lost now for years, and I truly believe only you suffer that loss –“

“That sword belonged to my father, it was meant for my brother –“

“And they are gone too Lyanna!” Arthur growled in annoyance. She hated when he treated her like a naïve child, it hurt her more than she cared to admit, though Arthur knew he was perhaps one of the only people who she would allow to treat her so.

“Forgive me” he huffed with his head tilted to the heavens as he dragged a hand through his hair; “But you do know how to frustrate me with the way you must always punish yourself. You’re just like him sometimes” he added almost inaudibly, though Lyanna heard him clear enough

“Just like who Arthur?” she snapped knowing full well who he meant. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had compared her to Rhaegar and this wouldn’t be the first time she was unimpressed by the comparison.

“You know who” he said with a roll of his eyes; “The two of you are gluttons for punishment. And this quest of yours to re-establish a valyrian sword for house Stark is just another way for you to condemn yourself –“

“I wanted a sword for Ned! For his birthday!” Lyanna tried to defend though Arthur could always see straight through her

“And I’ve given you a sword Lyanna, not entirely crafted from valyrian steel I’ll admit but not even Tywin Lannister with all the gold and power he has can find enough valyrian steel to forge a replacement for the lost sword of house Lannister. It was you who compared it to Ice, and you who found it lacking –”

“I did not!”

“You did!” Arthur half laughed; “You may not have expressed it in your words but I know you Lyanna. This sword here” he said gesturing to the white sword that gleamed in the light before her; “Is not Ice, it will never be Ice and it can never replace Ice’s legacy” he paused, placing his hands on her shoulders in the strong comforting way he had; “But you give your brother the opportunity to make a legacy of his own, a legacy that could perhaps be greater –“

“But Ned would want Ice to be returned to Winterfell, I know he would!” She cried as her sobs began to tremor through her body, weakening her knees

“Of course Lya, of course” he murmured as he hesitantly pulled her into his embrace, no doubt to support her more than anything – though at times she’d hope that perhaps he just wanted to hold her; “But once Ice is returned to its rightful place the relief will fade and the guilt will set in again, do you believe your brother takes his station as Lord of Winterfell with no guilt or remorse?”

“Of course not! Ned would never have wanted Winterfell the way he obtained it.”

“Aye, and you don’t think that that sword might remind him of the father and brother he lost to gain what he has?”

“Well – I thought – for me it – it – it belongs to Bran” she finished in a sad whisper. Rickard had not always wanted Winterfell for Brandon; in fact, there were times her father had out right cursed his oldest son for not taking to his responsibilities as he was meant to. But Ice was always Brandon’s, father believed none of them would do that sword the justice Bran could, no one would wield it the way he was meant to.

“And wouldn’t you think Lord Eddard feels that way too?” Arthur asked, as though he knew the train of her thought.

She had broken then, in the way that only Arthur was capable of breaking her. Lyanna Targaryen was a cold woman, one who sought little validation from her people, lords and king alike. But Lyanna Stark was a naïve girl, sensitive to the judgements and injustices of the world, and the losses she’d suffered at her own hand. Not often did Lyanna Targaryen give way long enough for Lyanna Stark to surface, but alone, with Arthur, she was safe to reveal her hidden pains.

“They never found him Arthur, Gods know what they did to his body, Gods Bran – father – I simply can’t bare this shame and torment any longer”

“Finding that sword can not erase what has been done Lyanna, if time was so easily reversed, believe me, I would have found it for the life of me” Arthur reassured as the grip he held on her tightened just enough to be called affectionate; “But punishing yourself so will do nothing for any one and no one shall thank you for it. Your family would wish for your happiness, if they love you as you say, this torture you endure in their names would only pain them.”

“I only wish –“

“To right your wrongs” Arthur finished, proving how well he had truly come to know her. She wasn’t a bad person, she had never wanted these horrible things to happen at all and yet she felt there was no way to redeem herself of these crimes.

“But there will never be a way to right them, will there?” She asked weakly, not entirely sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Perhaps not” he said with a huff, releasing her from his hold and offering her his arm, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try”

‘No it doesn’t’ she silently agreed as she straightened her attire briskly and composed herself.

“Would you?” She gestured to the greatsword that she had hoped would inspire love in her brother. It was far too big for her to handle with out struggle, and Rhaegar would not approve of his Queen arriving at council with a sword in hand, but Lyanna didn’t want it to leave her sight until it made it’s way as quickly as possible to Winterfell.

“It is a fine weapon” Arthur said with approval as he sheathed it in its white scabbard; “It will serve Lord Eddard well.”

“I pray he has no need for it truly, though I know Ned is a man –“

“Lya” Arthur interrupted suddenly full of guilt; “He will need it to serve him well”

\----------------------------------------------

Lyanna hadn’t given him a moment to say anymore before she had run off, something was wrong, she knew it, she could feel it. She had been feeling unusually sensitive all day, for sure it was Ned’s name day and she was often more nostalgic on days of remembrance, but then –

Arthur.

They had formed a connection she couldn’t say she felt with anyone else, it was close to the love she had for Brandon – though perhaps it were closer to the bond she had with Rhaegar. Lyanna knew how to read her guard better than anyone, when he was angry she could see it in the stiffness of his motions, when he was sad she could see it in the distance of his gaze, and when he was sorry, like he was now, she could feel it in her heart.

“Announcing her Grace, Queen Lyanna Targaryen“ Mandon Moore announced from the doorway of small council, though Lyanna had barely waited before she burst in.

Rhaegar was standing at the centre of the room with his arms wrapped lovingly around a sobbing Cersei Tyrell. His grip had seemingly loosened on the bitch when he heard Lyanna’s name though he didn’t have the gall to try and hide what he was quite obviously doing;

“I care not about you and your whore right now your Grace” she spat though he only looked at her with shame and confusion; “What is the meaning of this council meeting?”

“Lady Tyrell does not deserve to be addressed –“

“Oh I don’t give a damn Rhaegar! Why are we here?”

“My lord husband has been captured by the Red Viper your Grace, and is no doubt left for dead in the desert” Cersei tried seeming like a wife in despair though the act was only for Rhaegar she knew

“Do not act as though you care about Willas you bitch!” Lyanna yelled unable to contain herself when Cersei dared to perform so in front of her; “You’ve never even been to his stables to see his beloved horses, though I know time and time again he’s tried asking you to join him!”

“Enough!” Rhaegar roared, looking at Lyanna as though she’d lost her mind, though he pulled Cersei back in to a protective hold as she shuddered and sobbed against him.

“You arrive late and then you treat one of the ladies of your court with such disdain and inconsideration it cannot be called anything but despicable. I had hoped to have your sound advice on the unfortunate events that have unfolded as of late, but I see now you want nothing but blunt and brutal honesty. Well, so be it!” Rhaegar declared harshly as though she was nothing to him but one of his subjects; “Oberyn Martell has indeed captured Lord Willas Tyrell, and every man available to the Reach shall endeavour upon retrieving him this much can be assured –“

“Your Grace” Arthur’s voice tried to intervene from behind her, no doubt having just arrived at council, though Rhaegar held up his hand with a silencing authority that he rarely used with his closest of friends.

“But the Iron Islands have chosen to follow in Dorne’s footsteps and rebel against a monarchy they do not seem to respect. The North is under attack Lyanna” he continued unmercifully; “And the Starks have called their banners in our name”

‘No’ Lyanna internally cried as tears steamed down her face; ‘not my Ned, not for us.’ She felt her legs shake and nearly give way beneath her; despite how she wished to remain strong in front of a husband she regrets loving and a lioness who watches her pain with concealed joy

“Her Grace is not –“ Arthur tried to protect but Rhaegar would hear none of it.

“We are at war Lyanna” Rhaegar growled with frustration as he snatched her arm from Arthur who had taken to steadying her, “I asked you to come here and be a Queen for the people to respect” his words now coming in a hiss only meant for her to hear, “but I see now that is impossible” he sighed with a sad resignation that somehow seemed to finalise something.

“Ser Arthur, escort my lady wife to her chambers” he said as though she was something to be spoken about and not to, his eyes still looking at her sadly as though it is not his will to treat her as such; “she is not to leave them without my permission”

“You will not treat me like this –“

“I treat you only as you deserve to be treated Lyanna, now go!”

She had stormed to her tower in a fury of angry tears, how could he intend to tell her of such things in front of all those people? Why didn’t he talk to her about it before hand, told her it was a personal matter? Why is he always so quick to defend that lion whore? It was all too much, she felt embarrassed, betrayed, hurt, alone -

And just as she could feel her legs cave beneath her in defeat, there he was, as if summoned by some telepathic cue;

“Lya” Arthur called through her door, though he didn’t bother to wait for an answer to enter, he never did.

“Arthur” she sobbed weakly as he hoisted her from the floor and laid her on her bed; “It’s always you” she murmured softly as he threw the furs over her and tucked her in; “It always has been.”

“Go to sleep girl” he huffed in annoyance though he had a soft expression on his face; “on the morrow you will be stronger and then you can fight who ever you please, but for now she wolf, sleep” he all but commanded as he stood to stand guard at her door

“Please don’t leave Arthur?” she murmured into her pillow though he heard still

“Ha, I couldn’t even if I wanted to” 

‘Please don’t want to’ part of her wished to beg, but that would only be lining herself up for further disappointment –

Wouldn’t it? 

Instead she closed her eyes and dreamt of being in a different tower, where there was sun, freedom, passion and a man she was growing to love with platinum silver hair and the softest lavender eyes.


	22. A Girl I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) sorry for the long wait and thank you to anyone still reading this. In this chapter I had hoped to introduce some of my X-Men fandom as well as a pairing I have been waiting forever to write. I hope you enjoy. All R&R appreciated and as always none of the characters/settings in this fiction belong to me, this is merely a poor contrast of GRRM's creation

A Girl – 287AL somewhere off the coast of Dorne

 

Everything was so perfect.

She had a perfect family, a perfect home, a perfect life, everything that any happy little girl could possibly want, she had it, and then she had more –

“Why must someone always ruin it?” she thought bitterly to herself as silent tears began to fall from the prison of her thick lashes. The sea wind howled around her tearing through her hair and casting it in every direction. Strange that almost a lifetime ago it had been a sensation she welcomed. She would have been a young child of only four name days when last she stepped foot in the land of dragons, lions and direwolves, but the memory of the tragedies that had occurred (she feared) would haunt her forever;

 

_She had been so alone, so very alone._

_Mama was still in her sick bed after birthing her baby brother, too weak for Rhaenys to bother with stories of her adventures and blood oranges, and her Lord Father had grown so quiet that she wasn’t even sure he wanted to see her anymore._

_‘But that can’t be’ she had thought to herself then; ‘Papa loves me more than anyone, even more than the new baby’_

_She had been so young then, so young and so very naïve._

_Soon he would leave them on that stormy, rock island, where she and her uncle Viserys could see from one end to the other from the highest room in the castle. Nana told her that it was where the first dragons were born, and at first she had enjoyed the new discovery and the seclusion of their close family, but that had only lasted a moment._

_When they returned to the Red Keep, where dragons hold their prisoners, something was wrong;_

_“Where is he!?” her grandfather had screamed, as he paced around her mother in a predatory circle; “I know he would have told you where he went!”_

_“Forgive me Your Grace, but I can assure you he did not.”_

_“You lie like your mother!” he spat, his eyes glowing a violent violet._

_“It is treason to lie to my King, Your Grace” her mother gave gently, in the pleasing way she had always tried to teach Rhaenys to apply in all her conversations with her Lord Grandfather. She could hear the lie of course, Rhaenys had always been special, her Nana told her so, she would know things others do not, hear things others cannot, and see things that they will not – until it is far too late, but –_

_‘We must never tell anyone sweet one’ her grandmother’s voice would always remind her in moments when only she knew the truth ‘some secrets we must keep to ourselves’._

_“You are forbidden to leave” he finally growled after slowing his pace to something seemingly calmer; “she is forbidden to leave” he purred to her now, as he reached for Rhaenys from behind her mother’s skirts. She felt her Mama tense though no one would ever see it, her mother had far too much control for that, but she knew her mother was afraid for her still._

_‘Don’t worry Mama’ she tried to convey through her feigned smile as she reached out her hand for her Lord Grandfather to take; ‘you cannot burn a dragon’._

_Oh but they do burn she would learn, they burn till there’s nothing but fire and blood._

_That’s when he came, she remembers, like a storm in the winter, all howls and rage;_

_“Rhaegar Targaryen!” he roared through the keep, as men tried to seize him and his followers; “Come out and die!”_

_She had been sitting on her Lord Grandfather’s knee in one of his more peaceful moments, he had been telling her a story of the dragon conqueror and his bastard brother and she had been listening to him intently, until the Kingsguard brought them a direwolf._

_“Treason!” the King had almost shrieked, as his long nails dug painfully into her shoulders in his anguish; “I want him beaten so close to death the Stranger mistakes him for a soul to claim! Throw them in the Black Cells and bring me their Sires!”_

_She had cried helplessly into his embrace as the guards took them away; “Why was he so angry grandfather? Why would he want to hurt papa?”_

_“Your Sire has betrayed us sweet one” he hummed affectionately now, though the words cut her deeper still; “he’s run away with the wolf slut he chose over you. They won’t get away with this I promise; they will all suffer the consequences of a dragon’s punishment.”_

_She hadn’t known who ‘they’ were. Thinking back on it she believes not even the Mad King knew who ‘they’ were, but Rhaenys knew, whoever ‘they’ were, ‘they’ would suffer his wrath. He promised her so._

_She thought of the girl her Lord Father had given her promised crown to, she was pretty Rhaenys could admit, not in the way she hoped to be one day or the way Lady Ashara was in life, but she was a strange creature to Rhaenys, with her moon white skin and her near black hair, she was beautiful in her own way. ‘But that was meant to be my crown’ she near cried though she tried her hardest to push the thought away, her Lord Father had promised her real crowns in sweet whispers peppered with gentle kisses, and she forgave him of course, but Gods she forgave him too easily._

_‘Grandfather is mad’ she reduced to tell herself, ‘he says things he doesn’t mean that make no sense’_

_She could have forgotten about it, pretended none of this ever happened, they never went to any tourney, the Stark man that came to kill her Lord Father had carried on home instead, everything could still be perfect, everything could carry on –_

_But that’s a story for little girls of only four name days; and she wasn’t that little girl anymore._

_“What you plan is not justice Your Grace, it is barely even sane –“_

_“You watch your treasonous mouth!”_

_“You deem everything treason Your Grace, fathers who are not accountable for their sons have committed treason, sons who do not tell their Lord Sires their intentions or actions; treason!”_

_“Insipid snakes speaking out against their King’s will” her Lord Grandfather hissed at her mother as her Nana had dragged her away screaming and crying “Treason! Throw her in the Black cells with the dogs. I assume rapists and murderers would love nothing more than the presence of a pretty dornish princess”_

_She had cried herself to sleep that night in the embrace of her Nana and uncle Vissy, had she of known that this would be the last night she would’ve had such an opportunity, she would not have taken it for granted so –_

_She had been so young then, so young and so very naïve_

_“Today I shall begin my lessons with you my sweetest Queen” her Lord Grandfather had cooed to her as he hurriedly guided her deeper down under the keep. She didn’t know where they were going, she had never been to this part of the castle before, Rhaenys thought it was quite strange since she was sure her and uncle Vissy must’ve looked everywhere by now. ‘Remember where you’re going’ she made note to herself, so they could come back and explore together at a later date._

_“This” he told her, holding out a glass vial that looked to be filled with liquid emerald; “is wildfire love, because we are dragons we must have fire, must we not?”_

_“Yes Lord Grandfather” she answered with a short curtsey, in the way she knew he liked best but for once it only seemed to aggravate him –_

_“If I wanted to hear your mother’s pretty manners I would go visit her in the cells” he snapped grabbing her hand and thrusting the small vial into it, “your mother is not a dragon but you are” he said almost gently now, the switch that occurred between her Lord Grandfather and the Mad King becoming noticeably more swift and frequent, it was something that scared her, ‘you cannot burn a dragon’ Rhaenys would remind herself._

_“Well” she tried “dragons make fire so they must be very hot on the inside mustn’t they grandfather?”_

_“Yes little one” he smiled now, though his smiles never seemed happy “go on”_

_“Then they must come from somewhere hot and need to be around hot things. So dragons must need fire to feel like dragons right Lord Grandfather?”_

_“Yes my love” he almost sung, throwing his arms around her as though nothing in the world had ever made him happier, it made her feel nothing but uncomfortable; “yes, you see, now you understand. You are a dragon” he whispered to her with all the affection she believed he could muster “you are fire”_

_He had given her the glass vial that day, dangling from an elegant gold necklace that hung down to her navel, and she had thought it was a sign that love could come back and even the mad or the young could come to understand each other because of it –_

_She had been so young then, so young and so very naïve._

_“The King has asked to have Princess Rhaenys sleep with him tonight” Jon Darry had told her grandmother warily, as her and uncle Vissy huddled together awaiting her in their bed._

_“In his chambers? Surely not –“_

_“I am afraid Your Grace, I am not mistaken”_

_“Then I shall come with her” her Nana decreed as she readied herself to venture into the cold but uncle Lewyn held her arm and looked at her sadly._

_“I’m afraid Your Grace” Jon choked “the King specifically said the Princess was not to be accompanied, any and all who oppose his wishes will be charged with treason”_

_Her Nana looked crestfallen as she slumped back on the bed; “I see” she murmured to her hands, “come here my love” she whispered gently as she fought tears of frustration away “we must ready you for these damned corridors, we shan’t have you catch a cold now” she told her encouragingly as she draped a blanket over her like a cloak._

_“I will meet you in our secret place as early on the morrow as you can” uncle Vissy had called to her as Jon led her gently away “you’ll be alright Nys, I promise”_

_Her Lord Grandfather didn’t sleep in the Holdfast with them; he slept closer to the throne room which seemed miles away in the night. “Loreza?” she heard him ask the darkness that surrounded her as the throne came closer into sight, there were only two torches lit on either side of him, one above each dragon skull that were positioned with their jaws gaping open._

_“No Lord Grandfather, it’s just me, Rhaenys” she answered unsure whether to or not._

_“You look just like her” he whispered to himself, and for a moment she thought he was almost sad “but she was a whore” he suddenly hissed “a traitor!”_

_“I don’t know who you mean grandfather –“_

_“Good” he snapped, ”good” he repeated more gently as he came to take her hand in the guiding way he did; “you do not need to know of traitors, liars and oath breakers my little Queen, come let us sit”_

_They sat together for hours that night on a throne made of a thousand swords, when she first arrived she had been frightened of the dark, of the dragons, of her grandfather, but now that Jon had lit more torches and he grandfather seemed to be in the best mood she had seen in all her life she suddenly seemed to be enjoying herself._

_“Blood orange cakes and sweetened lemon water for your Queen, Kingsguard” he ordered as she giggled and ran circles around the teeth of whom she assumed was Balerion, the Black Dread or maybe Vhagar._

_“Will my brother have a dragon like this one day Lord Grandfather?” she asked as she tried to stretch up and touch one of the upper teeth._

_“If you so choose my Queen, yes, one day you will be able to gift your young brother a dragon” he told her “but heed warning little one, Rhaenyra was promised to be Queen once by her Lord Father and King –“_

_“There was once a dragon Queen grandfather?” She asked in astonishment, her Lord Father had never told her stories of this Queen._

_“Aye sweet darling there was, until her little brother fed her to his dragon”_

_She had fallen silent then and stepped out from the jaws of the dragon skull more carefully; “But why would he do that grandfather? Didn’t he love his sister?” Mama had always promised her that they would always love each other, that her brother would one day protect her as she must protect him now._

_“It is this throne” he told her sadly, his eyes seeming to drift off to a time long gone; “it is this throne that drives us mad”_

_“Then why not give it to someone –“she tried but he quickly cut her off._

_“Because it is mine; through fire and blood this throne is mine!” he yelled though the sadness in his eyes had yet to fade; “and one day it will be yours little one, through fire and blood it will be yours.”_

_Rhaenys never understood her grandfather when he talked like that, she knew one day her Lord Father would be king, and she was told now she had a brother he would follow their father in line to the throne, even uncle Vissy could sit on the Iron throne before her, but Rhaenys knew better than to argue with her grandfather, so she stayed silent instead._

_“Do you love your brother my little dragon?” He asked her quietly though his eyes never looked to her._

_“Yes Lord Grandfather” she answered truthfully, she did love him, with all her heart, her baby brother who looked to be the image of her once cherished Lord Father, how could she not?_

_“But will you always love him? When madness comes to take his mind, will you still love him then?”_

_‘Madness won’t take him like it took you’ she thought to herself ‘I won’t let it’_

_“Yes Lord Grandfather” she answered instead as she moved to sit on his lap. The clanking of approaching trays reminding her that sweet cakes were soon to arrive, “always” she said confidently as she planted a quick peck to his cheek._

_Sleep had claimed them both that night as they sat together on an iron throne of melted swords, her stomach filled with the taste of blood oranges, and her mind swimming with dreams of dragons. Fire, blood and snow –_

_“Promise me that’s all that happened?” her uncle had whispered to her under her Lord Father’s bed the next morning, as they clung to each other never wishing to be separated again._

_“I promise, grandfather only told me stories, and then we ate cakes and fell asleep”_

_“Were you frightened?” he asked with a slight squeeze, though it was meant to be reassuring._

_“Never” she lied with a smile, not wanting to make her serious uncle worry anymore “you cannot burn a dragon”_

_“Princess Rhaenys” she heard a familiar voice call from her father’s doorway, peeking out from under the bed and seeing the flash of white armour she knew exactly who it was;_

_“Is not here Ser Lion” she answered with a giggle though her uncle Vissy had frowned and began to move from out under the bed._

_“Oh I see it was only you Prince Viserys” he said dramatically_

_“Yes only Prince Vissy is here” she giggled even louder still hearing her uncles muffled laughter mixing with hers_

_“That’s enough now Nys” he tried to say seriously after clearing his throat, “you mustn’t waste the Kingsguards time”_

_She crawled out from under the bed reluctantly, not wanting to do anything today but visit her brother in the nursery and pretend everything was as perfect as always._

_“Forgive me Ser Lion” she says instead as she brushes her skirts off with a huff “does Lord Grandfather wish to break his fast with me now?” she asked knowingly. He had told her when they departed that he would be expecting her to dine with him and continue her lessons after his council meeting._

_“I’m afraid so” he said reaching out his hand to take hers. Rhaenys had kissed her uncle Vissy on the cheek then and promised to meet him later in the nursery as Jaime Lannister led her away._

_“Ser Lion” she said timidly once they started heading down one of the long and secluded corridors “mama said you were her friend”_

_He stilled for a moment seeming to feel tense “I am her friend still, princess” he gave quietly and continued to walk on at a slower pace._

_“Then will you take me to her” she almost cried, her heart almost breaking in her chest as she pushed on “I miss my mama”_

_He had said nothing to her then, only carried on down the long hallways that seemed to echo in their silence; “Tonight” he whispered to her once they had turned down one of the more secluded passages to the private royal dining room; “Your Lady Grandmother promises you, tonight”_

_Rhaenys had smiled to herself then and dropped into one of her playful curtseys as she skipped to her seat at the table, had she had known then that their reunion would not be so sweet as her imagination had conjured, she would not have been so happy._

_Gods she had been so young then, so young and so very naïve._

_“Today we learn more about our words little one” he grandfather said to her from opposite the long narrow table as he chewed mouthfuls of bread dipped in wine; “and what are they?”_

_“Fire and Blood, Lord Grandfather”_

_“Mmm” he nodded with agreement as his mouth looked to be too full to speak; “we have covered fire to some extent and now we shall learn of blood” he said after swallowing most of his mouthful, though pieces of chewed bread splattered across the table still._

_Rhaenys hated blood, she saw enough of it at that cursed tourney, blood meant pain and pain wasn’t a concept that Rhaenys much approved of but –_

_“You are my blood” he told her now with his food set aside and his eyes focused on her; “I am the sire of your sire, do you understand this?”_

_“Yes Lord Grandfather” she didn’t._

_“And who is it little one that conquered Westeros and claimed it under an Iron Throne?”_

_“King Aegon the First of his name, Lord Grandfather” she recited for Rhaenys had always played close attention to such lessons_

_“And who was it that helped him?” he asked though Rhaenys was stunted by the question, she had always been told Aegon was the conqueror but then she remembered;_

_“He had sisters!” Rhaenys declared proudly, for she now was a sister; “and a bastard brother too. He and his sisters rode dragons Lord Grandfather” she told him as though he didn’t already know “they used Fire and Blood!”_

_Aerys smiled at her then, a true smile, a smile she wished she had never seen for Gods it would have made the memories more bearable._

_“You are my blood, and I’ve given you fire” he said fondly, the light that she recognized in her Nana never leaving his eyes “now go and conquer worlds, tonight we learn more”_

_“Yes Lord Grandfather” she practically sung as she went to the King and gave him a kiss before running off to the nursery with Jon Darry in tow._

_She spent most of that day with her baby brother; uncle Vissy, Balerion the black cat and Jonothor Darry, playing innocently like they used to and telling stories to each other whenever the babe would fuss. It would be the last time she remembered true happiness in a red prison; it was the last time she remembered calling it her home._

_For she had been so young then, so young and so very naïve_

_“Come now sweet one” her Nana had whispered to her after supper as she wrapped her up in her warmest fur coat, tucking her long dark locks into the hood._

_Ser Lion had lead them with Jonothor trailing not far behind, ‘I’ve never been here before either’ she thought to herself as they ventured further into darkness. They began to descend further and further down when Rhaenys realised the air had suddenly gotten thick with the smell of rot and filth._

_“Nana, where are we going? I thought we were going to see mama?”_

_‘Be brave sweet one’ she heard her reply with a gentle squeeze to her hand ‘we are’_

_‘This can’t be’ she thought to no one but herself as she looked around in horror at the darkness ‘my mama is the sun, you cannot stop the sun from shining just as you cannot burn a dragon’_

_Oh Gods she had been so young then, so young and so very naïve_

_They came to a great black door of metal that sounded as though it was aching, though Rhaenys soon learned they were only the moans of those trapped behind it. They passed men calling for salvation and what looked to be the dead still chained to walls, wrists that were too slim to belong to a living man still bound above their heads._

_“Jon” she whimpered as her guard hoisted her up and cradled her protectively to his chest. Rhaenys had started crying then wishing for nothing but to turn around and go back._

_“Gods be good” she heard her Nana weep though Rhaenys refused to look, with her head still buried in the chest of her guard._

_“Eat my love eat, Gods only know what shit they feed you in this Hell”_

_“Lady Mother!” she heard the familiar chastisement though she was still afraid to look. ‘It’s too good to be true’ she told herself instead._

_“Damn your manners girl! Damn this whole forsaken keep, and damn the monster that traps us here! When Rhaegar returns –“_

_“I’ll kill him myself!” a predatory snarl growled, ‘The Stark man’ she concluded as she huddled deeper still into Jon’s embrace._

_“When will you learn to hold your tongue before you get yourself killed Brandon?”_

_“Probably when you learn to stop protecting your craven excuse for a husband, Ellie” he spat the name though Rhaenys recognized it as an affectionate term for her mother._

_“Mama?” she called out, still not wanting to believe her mother was here, not wanting to open her eyes and see her in a place like this._

_“Rhaenys? You brought my daughter here!” the outrage in her voice obvious though her hands reached out through the bars that restrained them with all the gentle warmth Rhaenys had been missing these last few days; “How could you bring her to a place like this mother? How could YOU Jaime?”_

_“She needed you – “he tried_

_“She should not be here! This is no place for a child”_

_“Rhaegar Targaryen cares for his children as little as he does his wife it seems”_

_The sound in her Lady Grandmother’s voice was nothing like she had ever heard before when she said; “For all the love I have for your Lord Father boy, you will take caution of how you speak in the presence of my granddaughter when referring to my son”_

_Rhaenys had dared to look then, turning herself in her mother’s embrace though Jon still knelt protectively behind her as though he were there to catch her if she fell. The cold bars making it difficult for Rhaenys to wrap her arms and legs around her mother though she clung to her mother best as she could still. She saw the Stark man over her mother’s shoulder looking crestfallen as he lay chained in the corner gazing out a tiny barred grate at the moonlight._

_“My quarrel is not with a child” he almost mumbled though his voice was so loud she heard him clearly._

_“Isn’t it?” her grandmother asked though she carried on when the question went unanswered, “Forgive me Elia, she needed to see where you were, she needed to see what Aerys had done to you”_

_“She is still a child –”_

_“That she is” he grandmother said more affectionately now, sounding more like the Nana she loves, “but he treats her like a dragon and hides the full truth of his lessons”_

_“Lessons? You said you would keep her safe from him” her mama started sounding frantic now so Rhaenys held her more tightly._

_“Don’t worry mama” she whispered to her “you cannot burn a dragon”_

_“Nor can you stop the sun from shining” her mother told her as she planted kisses all over the crown of her head; “keep your brother safe, pay no attention to any cruel whispers you hear of your father, remember that we love you Rhaenys, more than anything we love you”_

_She had tried not to cry as Jon led her away that night, though the promise of seeing her mother again soon did little to help keep her tears at bay._

_“Where have you been!?” her Lord Grandfather snapped at Ser Jon once he’d escorted her back to the bedroom._

_“The princess was playing in the old Godswood Your Grace” he lied, “she is much too good at hide and seek”_

_He had laughed at that though it was laced with hysteria; “Your grandmother and I used to play hide and seek child, she was always much better than me, but then snakes are good at hiding things”_

_‘You hide from me what you do to my mama’ she thought angrily though she mustered a smile to hide the truth._

_“What will you teach me tonight Lord Grandfather?” she asked instead hiding her resentment behind a pretty practiced face._

_“Tonight you learn the art of war” he told her, placing a cyvasse board – much like the one she saw her mother play from time to time, on the rug in front of her, as he sat down to prepare the pieces, “tonight we prepare your mind for what’s coming”_

_Rhaenys sat and learned as much as she could that night; how to use your pieces, what patterns to look for, that no sacrifice is too great for the overall victory. All the while silently wishing to oppose her grandfather, but physically playing into his game regardless._

_“Check mate” she finally said as the sun began to rise, though her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep; “Lord Grandfather”_

_“Sleep now” he lulled with a gentle smile, in a soothing voice that broke her heart and confused her mind. ‘How can you love me but hate mama, how can anyone both love and hate at the same time?’ she wanted to cry but instead she buried herself into his arms and came quickly to the realisation ‘I love and hate you grandpapa, I love you but –‘_

_‘I hate you’_

_“Sleep now and dream”_

 

She realises now the dreams that haunt her so strongly had begun when she was still just a girl of no more than four name days. She wondered perhaps if a Mad King was trying to give her more than his throne and she thinks bitterly now, perhaps he had succeeded.

“What are you doing out here my love?” the soft voice of her mother beckoned over the winds

“The better question is mama, what are you doing out here?” she challenged with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow, something that made her mother sigh in frustration.

“You are still too young to treat me as frail as you do, when I am old, greyed and bent, then you may treat me as such”

“Please mama” she said with a roll of her eyes though a fond smile graced her lips, “you are Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne, you are Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken”

She remembers the first time she had ever heard her mother say as such, though she wished she didn’t –

 

_Her mother’s naked and bruised body is something she would never forget, though her chin was titled high and proud and her long black hair hung down to her hips in a way that made her seem regal, Rhaenys’ heart broke for her mother still._

_“I am Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne” she heard her mother announce with a proud defiance to the crowds that had gathered, “I am Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken”_

_“You dare mock your King!?” her grandfather shrieked, ‘say no’ she silently willed her ‘say no’_

_“A King is merciful, forgiving and just” her mama decreed instead “I see no King here”_

_“Ten lashes!” was the last thing Rhaenys heard before the pounding in her chest became too loud, a hooded man carrying a long barbed whip in his hand slowly ascended the stairs to stand behind her mother_

_‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she inwardly questioned him as she threw a murderous gaze at her grandfather._

_But then the sound of the whip tore her attention away, as it tore away the flesh from her mother’s back._

_“Mama” she called weakly as the blood slowly began to pool around her mother’s feet, ‘my blood, she is my blood’, “Mama!” she called more fiercely now as though she had suddenly found her voice, “What are you doing to my mama? Leave her alone!” she screamed with all the power she had in her lungs._

_A pair of strong arms had grabbed her then and pulled her into a tight embrace but she ignored it and tried again, “Mama!”_

_“Your mother is the sun little one” the Lion knight that held her in place tried to sooth, though the sound of the whip and the gasps of the audience plagued her still, “You cannot stop the sun from shining”_

_‘Traitor’ she cried to herself as she tried to fight him off ‘you were meant to be her friend, traitor!’ but then she heard her mother again, strong and clear over the weakness and pain she must’ve felt;_

_“I am Elia Nymeros Martell of Dorne. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken”_

_Rhaenys had cried under her Lord Sire’s bed after that. Told Jon she wanted absolutely no one to enter, not her Nana, not her uncle Vissy, not the craven lion and most certainly not her Lord Grandfather._

_“We have to get out of here Balerion” she told her only companion as he purred and nudged his head against hers “we have to take our brother and mama and go to wherever papa is. We can’t stay here anymore, not when grandfather wants fire and blood”_

_Days of complete solitude would pass before she saw anyone again, her Lord Grandfather choosing to lock her away in the Holdfast after what he called her ‘little outburst’._

_“Have you had enough of this silence yet?” he asked though he could not see her from sitting atop the bed._

_“Yes” she whimpered as she crawled out and took the hand that virtually whipped her mother._

_But Gods she was lonely, so very, very lonely._

_“Good” he told her firmly, not a hint of remorse or sadness in his voice as he brought her to sit in his lap; “Your lessons shall continue immediately, we have little time left my dragon”_

_‘He has little time left’ a darker voice inside her said ‘you cannot burn a dragon’_

_Aerys had guided her to the throne room then, where three men and a woman with bright red hair were being held captive by the Gold cloaks her Lord Grandfather commanded._

_“Mordecai of Myr” The Mad King hissed, “exactly where have you been?”_

_“As always Your Grace” the old man said kindly in a soft voice, his eyes smiling at her in a way that made her feel safe again, “I have been endeavouring to fulfil my destiny”_

_“Do not think to speak your riddles to me fool, I am not Loreza!”_

_“Your Grace, I would never mistake her for you”_

_“And what” he Lord Grandfather snarled “is that supposed to mean, Old man?!”_

_“I only mean Your Grace, Loreza was the sun, whereas you are only in its shadow” he told her grandfather with a low bow._

_All four of them had been banished to the Black cells then while her Lord Grandfather paced back and forth in front of the throne she sat on._

_“Usurpers” he hissed, “all of them are nothing but usurpers”_

_She didn’t know what the word meant then, though she didn’t bother asking, for she simply didn’t care to understand her grandfather anymore._

_“You’ve heard them all whisper haven’t you?” he interrogated though she doesn’t know whether he was asking her or the voices he always seemed to talk to; “Rhaegar has betrayed us, nothing was ever good enough for him, YOU are not good enough for him”_

_‘I know’ she confirmed to no one but herself though tears threatened to spill still. Of course she had heard it already, the maids, the guards, even the Stark in that hell of a prison had told her as such, ‘Papa doesn’t care about us anymore, he wants a new family’_

_“Don’t cry my little love” he hushed, sweeping away the tears that had silently fallen onto her cheeks; “I promised you they would be punished, and I promise you now no one will ever shun you so again. You are my fire, you are my blood”_

_‘But mama is mine’ Rhaenys knew, ‘my brother is mine. And I will protect them with Fire and Blood’ if only she had known then what she knew now –_

_But Gods she had been so young then, so young and so very naïve._

_Jaime Lannister and her Nana would take her to see her mother in those cells one last time that night, her Lord Grandfather giving her permission to spend just one more night with her Nana and uncle Vissy, though he wasn’t aware that his lady wife had other plans._

_When they arrived at the metal black door this time, Rhaenys ran in the direction she knew would take her to her mama, ignoring the calls of her Nana and the sound of the Lion knight chasing after her._

_“Mama?” she called “Mama I’m here”_

_But when she finally came to the cell the sight she stumbled upon was not something she had ever expected, the Stark man had removed his furs and tunic, her mother was wrapped in his arms still bloodied and shivering in his embrace, the tunic he once wore was now donned by her mama and though as small as she was compared to the big man, his clothing barely reached her knees._

_“Hush little one” he told her gently, a reassuring smile, as small as it was, awkwardly tugging at the corners of his mouth, “your mother has barely slept, she is cold and she is weak, and so we must let her sleep now, understand?”_

_She had nodded in response and kneeled as close to them as she could get, “They hurt my mama” she finally told him without hiding any anger or resentment for the first time_

_“I know” he said with just as much anger, a promise of vengeance burning in his eyes, “I know” he repeated looking more sad now as he stared down at her mother’s broken form “forgive me for what I have done”_

_“What have –“_

_“Let go of her!” the Lion knight roared as he came into view, drawing out his sword and running more swiftly now._

_“Fuck you King’s guard!” the Stark man she remembered her mama calling Brandon growled as he held on to her mother more tightly._

_“I’ll come into that cell and kill you myself –“_

_“Enough of this!” her Nana ordered as she quickly came to hug Rhaenys into the safety of her protective hold “As beloved as she clearly is to both of you” a statement that made both men blush “she means more to her daughter”_

_“Ella? Sweet child is that you?”_

_“Mordecai? Mordecai! Gods what are you doing in there?” her Nana asked the old man Rhaenys remembered from earlier, though he sat now behind barred doors opposite her mama._

_“My destiny sweet one” he smiled “now what is it that brings you here?”_

_“This is all wrong” her Nana started crying, so Rhaenys held onto her tighter as though to comfort her._

_“You know this old fool?”_

_“Watch your mouth boy!” her grandmother snapped at Brandon, though he only looked at her with annoyance and confusion “You know not to whom you speak!”_

_“Calm yourself sweet one” the old man gave gently as he reached out to touch her, “all is as it should be”_

_“This is not as it should be! This is not how I saw it!” streams of tears now started to fall on Rhaenys as she hopelessly tried anything to make them stop_

_‘I’m here Nana’ she told her in the voice that she thought only her grandmother would hear ‘I’ll protect you’_

_But that only seemed to make it worse as her Nana’s sobs got louder._

_“Look at me now child, look at me, you told me once the pack survives, doesn’t it?”_

_“What good is a pack of direwolves to me Mordecai? What of my children? What of my grandchildren?”_

_“When the sun bleeds” he said pointing an old bony finger towards her mama, “and the wild wolf howls” pointing it now at Brandon who shifted her mother in his embrace to hold her closer to him_

_“The lone wolf dies” her grandmother sobbed “Gods have mercy poor Rickard”_

_“What of my father?” Brandon Stark snapped, the anguish in his grey eyes reflected by the moonlight_

_“But the pack survives” the old man continued completely ignoring how the direwolf was slowly becoming more wild and gazing now at her as though she was the answer to some question Rhaenys never asked._

_“But the dragon must have three heads!”_

_“And it will sweet one, you know it must, but a direwolves pack has no absolute number”_

_“You expect me to trust him!? Look at him, with all his rage and foolish recklessness, you expect me to entrust him with those who are most precious to me?”_

_“Somebody better tell me what the fuck you two are ranting about before I –“_

_“You see! Never! I will never willingly give them to him” she swore to no one but herself clutching Rhaenys closer to her now._

_“You’re all fucking mad, that little girl shouldn’t be anywhere near any of you” Brandon growled now only forgetting his anguish when her mother whimpered in his arms_

_“Brandon?”_

_“Sorry Ellie” he whispered gently, his face softening into a look of concern “but we have unexpected guests”_

_“Jaime?” she called now “Jaime is that you?”_

_“I’m here Ellie, Her Grace, the princess and myself are here”_

_“You brought my Rhaenys?” she asked trying to turn herself in the arms that held her so she could see more of her surroundings_

_“Yes mama” she called, though she didn’t leave her Nana’s sad embrace for she had witnessed more than enough tears from her that night; “I’ve been doing what you said” she lied, “taking care of brother and not paying attention to the bad whispers”_

_“Good girl” her mother cooed reaching out her hand for Rhaenys to touch, “my sweet little girl”_

_Her mother had fallen back into a slumber after that, all the pain in her body looking to seep away as Brandon held her close to him again._

_“It’s the best way to keep her warm” he told them with a defiant grunt though his eyes only seemed to go to the Lion knight._

_“You two look just like them” her grandmother said after a long silence, her voice sounding sure again, and her tears no longer sad; “I had always thought it was Rickard and Loreza but now I see, prophesies will be fulfilled, even if history must repeat itself”_

_When sleep had finally come to claim Rhaenys as it had already done her mother, all she could remember was the feel of the stone cold floor, the pungent smell of blood and waste, and the presence of a direwolf she had slowly began to trust._

_‘Winter is coming’ she heard the wind say ‘winter is coming’_

_Lord Rickard Stark had arrived the next evening; in armour that looked almost identical to his son’s though his was more silver where his son’s was black. He had a solemn face, far more serious than anything she had seen from Brandon even in his most angry moments, and yet his eyes were still gentle when he looked at her and Nana as they stood next to the throne where her Lord Grandfather sat._

_“Bring in the prisoners!” the Mad King commanded._

_Uncle Lewyn eventually entered with her mama on his arm, she was clean now Rhaenys noticed, though she was dressed in an ugly brown woollen shift, the blood that had stained her legs was now gone and her hair was brushed to the side and bound in a simple plait. Rhaenys would’ve run to her then if it wasn’t for the way her Nana held her in place._

_‘Not yet little one’ Rhaenys heard in her mind ‘it isn’t safe for us yet’_

_“Look at what you’ve done to her Aerys” the solemn booming voice of Lord Stark seemed to admonish her Lord Grandfather, “To Loreza’s only daughter, how could you do this when you loved her so”_

_“I care not for traitors the same way you do Stark!” he snapped “my love died long before the snake did. But you are not here to question my actions; you are here to be questioned for yours!”_

_“Then tell me Aerys what it is I have done, what it is my son has done, and let us negotiate on how best to remedy these issues”_

_“Your son has committed treason!” he spat the word his eyes glowing a dangerous hue of lilac and violet “he came here demanding the head of your crowned Prince, an action I do not doubt you encouraged!”_

_“Brandon is young, not much more than a boy, let us settle this as men Aerys”_

_“Men!?” the Mad King shrieked, the sound of hysteria loud in his voice, “Men would settle this in a trial by combat”_

_“Then so be it –“_

_“Father!” the familiar voice of Brandon Stark called as he was dragged in by four men, though he shrugged them off with what looked to be little effort and went to stand beside his Lord Father, “Forgive me father I didn’t know”_

_“Enough now Brandon, stand down while you can –“_

_“Stand down?” her Lord Grandfather cackled, the madness in his voice becoming tenfold louder “there will be no standing down! Seize them all!”_

_She remembers seeing Brandon fight alongside the loyal friends that called to him as though he could save them; she remembers hundreds of men standing around that throne room watching as he helplessly fought to protect them and their Lord sires._

_“Your fight is with me!” he bellowed as guards had overpowered his father and men began tying him to the rafters that had been lowered to the floor, “Punish me!”_

_“Oh you will be punished” The Mad King cackled as they struggled against the men that restrained them “you all will learn what it means to wake the dragon”_

_Her Lord Grandfather had taken her into his lap then as a noose was put around Brandon’s neck and held firmly by the bull Kingsguard she had always feared, ‘I knew you were a bad man’ she thought to herself then as she watched helplessly from the prison of an iron throne._

_“Aerys what is the meaning of this? Your Gods dictate that I have a right to trial by combat for the crimes you hold my son and these boys accountable for”_

_“I heard you the first time Stark!” her grandfather hissed through a twisted smile “And a trial you shall have! Bring in the champion of House Targaryen!”_

_Three men clothed in strange robes slowly entered the throne room, carefully carrying green vials much like the one she wore around her neck though theirs were much bigger._

_“Your Graces” one of them bowed before her and her Lord Grandfather, though they quickly went to preparing wood and stones underneath the Stark Lord that now hung from the rafters;_

_“What the fuck is this!” Brandon yelled as he pulled against the noose that restrained him, the bull that held firm to the rope looked to be struggling though he did not let go; “I demand my sword, I demand a true combat!”_

_“Ha! A sword will not help you boy!” her Lord Grandfather spat “But bring the boy his sword anyway, just out of arms reach, let’s see how much you love your Sire!”_

_Jon had brought forth a great long sword with a direwolf pommel and placed it gently on the ground with a look of absolute sadness she had never seen before in her most beloved knight._

_‘I don’t want this’ she thought frantically to herself as tears began to fall watching Brandon struggle; ‘I never wanted them to be punished’_

_When the first vial shattered, a menacing green fire erupted in the middle of the throne room, the heat from its flames kissing Rhaenys’ face gently, though she noticed how her Lord Grandfather flinched away from it._

_‘You cannot burn a dragon’ she heard in her mind_

_“Father!” a torn voice boomed out across the throne room, her eyes darted to Brandon who looked to be struggling against the restraints around his neck, though he threw all his body weight and strength into reaching for the sword in front of him, it was in vain; “Burn me instead! Father!”_

_“He’s not a dragon Lord Grandfather” she said in a panic as her eyes looked to Rickard Stark, smoke bellowing from his armour and the flames flickering violently underneath; “fire can burn him” she thought to explain as though this was some kind of mistake._

_“Precisely” he told her with a purr and slowly began to stroke her hair as the sound of madness came out of him in bouts of cruel laughter._

_“Father! Take me! Spare my Father! Please Gods I beg!”_

_“He begs grandfather, please he begs!”_

_“Enough Rhaenys” The Mad King snapped in her ear; “This is your next lesson, what are our House words?”_

_“Fire and Blood” she whispered as more tears began to run, a blob of thick reddish brown liquid seeped from Lord Stark’s armour, the fire spitting at him as the liquid came in contact with its heat._

_“FATHER!”_

_“And so I give you, Fire and Blood” her Lord Grandfather whispered in awe to her, as though the pungent smell of burning flesh and the screams of pain from the innocent were some kind of gift you give to those most beloved to you._

_“SILENCE!” she heard the Lord of the North cry, her grandmother letting out the only sob heard afterwards though she saw the heart break plain in her mother’s eyes._

_He was gone now she knew, whatever remains were in that armour had as little life in them as the men she had seen chained in those Black cells. ‘This is enough’ she thought to herself, a wave of new found strength coursing through her body; ‘I want no more! I want no more!’_

_“Father” she heard a weak voice choke, though the room was filled with hundreds of men not one of them spoke out for this injustice, all of them too craven, all of them afraid of the dragon._

_‘Enough Brandon Stark’ she willed him with all the power she had in her mind; ‘this is enough’ she told him with her eyes though his only bore pleadingly into her mother’s, ‘sleep now and dream’_

_He fell then, flat to the ground with a seemingly lifeless thud, all struggle in him completely gone, and all sound in that throne room vanquished but the flickering beat of wildfire and the demented sounds of a Mad King._

 

Elia wrapped her arms around her daughter then as they looked out over the vast seas. The silence between them being more comforting than any words as the promise of land was slowly coming into view. Though promises seemed to be more like curses to her –

“When will we see Papa again?” she finally asked as she watched the sun slowly begin to set.

“He will meet us in Dorne like I promised, for now war calls for him”

“It isn’t his war” she said firmly then with her eyebrows tightly knit together “he should be here, with us, what does a silly war of northern and iron men mean to him?”

“You’ve been eavesdropping again” her mother stated. It may have sounded like a question but her mother knew her better than anyone.

“Of course I have been! You take us from Braavos in the middle of the night and then ship us off from Pentos claiming it to be some kind of adventure, I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were”

“Then why won’t you just tell me the truth! Why are we going back?” she begged for an answer and hoped it would not be one of her worst nightmares. 

“We cannot run and pretend forever my love, your father has family –“

“WE ARE his family” she slowly began to rage, she never argued with her mother, she always tried to be the most pleasing child anyone could ever ask for so they would never leave her again – 

 

For though it had been many years; she was still so young, and so very naïve.

 

“THEY are also his family, and you of all people should know how much family means to your father”

She did of course, she had witnessed it first-hand but that didn’t help the feeling of abandonment, a familiar sting that she had long ago forgotten about –

 

_Jeffory Mallister, Elbert Arryn, Kyle Royce, the squire boy Ethan Glover, their Lord Sires, Qarlton Chelsted – though he was dipped in the wildfire and not roasted over it, all of them, every single one of them screamed._

_“GODS HAVE MERCY!”_

_“PLEASE!”_

_“HELP ME!”_

_They screamed till their voices curdled with the sound of boiling liquids bursting up and out of their mouths, the call of desperation, pain and fear plain enough for even a child of her age to recognize. The screams of torment and the madness of laughter will forever haunt her she was sure._

_“I don’t want this anymore” she told Balerion under her traitor sire’s bed one night, “I don’t want to live here anymore, I want mama, I want Jon, I want Nana and uncle Vissy, I want my brother and I want to run away! I want to run away Balerion” she desperately cried to a black kitten that seemed to understand her more than anyone;_

_“I’m going to run away”_

_Rhaenys had always had an amazing imagination and a wonderful memory; everyone had always told her so. It had been too easy she thinks; to remember which way to go, past three dragon skulls, ‘Silverwing, Meraxes, Caraxes’ she listed to herself, down a secret passage to the right, leading to a false door that looked like a wall, Rhaenys had taken a special interest in it and could remember it quite vividly, and then finally after descending down a long winding staircase she would find the room she was looking for, ‘where the wildfire is’ she whispered to herself as she slowly opened the door._

_Where once there were hundreds and hundreds of glass orbs of emerald fire now there was only one mere shelf and tables full of maps and books. ‘This is the Holdfast’ she thought to herself as she quickly looked over one of the maps, she tried to locate a map with only two words ‘Black cells’ but she stopped and hid when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps._

_“But Prince Rhaegar was victorious; I cannot understand why the King would continue with this plot”_

_“In case it has escaped your attention Belis, the King does as he pleases – “she overheard. ‘Papa is coming back’ she thought with a glimmer of hope, though she quickly pushed the thought aside, ‘he left us here to suffer, left us while he started a new family of his own’_

_“Rossart” she heard suddenly as the one called Belis pointed over to the shelf she had been hiding behind_

_“Stay back” she shouted, quickly reaching for one of the glass orbs and backing away into the furthest corner, “you stay away from me or – or I will tell my Lord Grandfather on you”_

_“Come now Your Grace, we know just as well as you, you shouldn’t be here, now if you please put that down –“_

_“No!” she demanded threatening to throw the orb on the ground, “Stay away I want my mama”_

_“Listen here you little shit” Belis snapped “that is not a toy if you do not give that here now you could burn this whole place down”_

_“I said I want my mama!”_

_“Belis you’re frightening her! Your Grace please, do you want us to burn alive? Do you want to burn alive?” he tried though he didn’t realize his attempt had only set the cogs of fate in motion._

_“You cannot burn a dragon!” she told him as she threw the fragile orb at the shelf, engulfing them in a chamber of wild green flames._

_Rhaenys ran as fast as she could, though the wildfire seemed to chase her up the stairway and through the passages, stone walls exploding all around her as the heat shattered them like glass, people were running out from all directions, burning and screaming like wet wooden logs fuelling the fire._

_“Mama!” she screamed desperately, trying to be heard over the sounds of destruction and death; “Mama!”_

_“Princess!” the Lion knight called as he dashed to her with more speed than she’d ever seen in him, ‘Trust him’ a voice told her ‘trust him’_

_“Ser Lion my mama!”_

_“I know sweet one I know” he hushed though his voice sounded more panicked than his eyes looked, “go quickly now to your secret place, I will bring mama to you and we’ll get the fuck out of here, okay?”_

_She had only nodded and sprinted off down the hallways she knew were least used; “Uncle Vissy!” she cried though she never stopped running “Nana!”_

_Rhaenys could feel her skirts burning as she jumped over the wreckage and leapt through the flames, she paid them no mind however, as she couldn’t be a little girl anymore even if she was only four name days old._

_But oh she had been so young then and Gods would punish her for being so naïve._

_“Uncle Vissy!” she cried seeing the feet hanging out from under the traitor’s bed, “Uncle Vissy!” she tried though he only coughed and seemed to go back to sleep, the flames were closing in around them and the luxurious fabrics that she had once loved only helped to aid the fire._

_“Please Uncle Vissy we have to go; I’m so sorry I’ll tell you all my secrets later but we have to go”_

_She tried with all her strength then to carry him, hoisting his dead weight onto her back the best she could, but it was not enough, Gods why could she not be enough?_

_“Uncle Vissy please!” she pleaded now; “I can’t do this alone”_

_“You will never be alone” she heard her grandmother soothe as her warm hands came up to take the weight from behind her_

_“Nana I did something bad and now uncle Vissy –“_

_“Hush sweet love” her grandmother told her gently as she took Viserys in her arms, though the babe in her belly made such a usually simple task difficult, “come now quickly” she said grabbing her hand and leading them out the main exit through the throne room._

_They almost made it, she thinks maybe if she had of been stronger they could have, but the Gods can be so cruel, even though she was still young and so very naïve._

_The roof had seemed to crumble; chandeliers she had once loved gazing at as she swirled around beneath them fell and broke all around her, stones that were once held firmly in place dropped as if it they were simply raining from the heavens_

_“Nana!” she screamed as a boulder knocked the hand that held hers to the ground with a violent crash, blood began running out from under the rock that held grandmother’s legs in place, “Nana no!”_

_She cried desperately as she tried to lift the impossible weight that seemed to be crushing her grandmother, “Forgive me my love” her Nana told her weakly as she pushed Viserys away from under the rubble, he was coughing now she noticed, hopefully awake enough to help her get Nana out –_

_Oh Gods have mercy she was so young, and so very, very naïve._

_“I had hoped I could get you and your brother out of this hell but you must go back my love, you must go back for him”_

_“But Nana the fire!” she cried gripping to the hand of the only woman she would love in this way. Her Nana had only smiled at her sadly and put their hands together in the fire that still danced on the rocks that crushed her._

_“You cannot burn a dragon” Nana told her with a look of sureness Rhaenys felt like her grandmother always had._

_“But what about you Nana, what about the baby?” she asked now though she could almost feel the Stranger coming._

_“Daenerys” her grandmother managed “I would have named her Daenerys for Loreza”_

_“We can still call her that Nana, we just need help”_

_“Loreza” her grandmother whimpered instead “I would have named you Loreza for her”_

_“Nana please get up! Please!”_

_But she was only distracted by the passing of her grandmother long enough for the wildfire to close in around her –_

_“Ahhhh!” she suddenly heard the pained screams of her uncle; “Nys! Help me!”_

_The fire had caught on the leg of his breeches, and though the material was easily burnt away his flesh bubbled underneath it –_

_“PLEASE!” he screamed, so much like all the men that she witnessed burn alive in the throne room, the pain etched deep in his voice._

_‘But you cannot burn a dragon’ she kept telling herself as she tried frantically to choke out the fire that was consuming her sweet dragonknight ‘you cannot burn a dragon’ but the fire didn’t listen to her, it only carried on up his body as he writhed and pleaded for it to stop. Rhaenys did the only thing she thought she could then, she wrapped her body around his hoping that the fire would recognize SHE was a dragon and it cannot burn HER, but she was too late –_

_“Rhaenys” she thought she heard him curse for that was how she felt as the last of his breath left his struggling body._

_“Somebody help me!” she begged while the body in her arms sputtered and cracked and the walls of fire seemed to encase her “Anybody! Help me!”_

_That’s when he came, she remembers, like a storm in the winter, all howls and rage;_

_“Aerys Targaryen!” Brandon Stark roared, “Come out and die!”_

 

Yes, she knows exactly the kind of man her Papa is, and how far he would go for those he loved enough to call his. 

“We should have gone with him” she tries now instead, knowing that no one and nothing can stop her Papa from protecting his family, “the lone wolf dies” she whispered to the wind, tears for the man she loves the most finally escaping from her eyes.

“But the pack survives” Elia gave gently, turning her now to face her so she could wipe the tears away, “be strong for your brothers Loreza” her mother pleaded as she pulled her to her chest, though Loreza was careful not to put any weight on the precious bump that protruded from her mother’s belly, “Winter is coming”

‘Aye’ she thought to herself as she rested her hands gently on the little sister she knew would come soon, like a storm in the winter, all howls and rage, ‘she is coming’.

Rhaenys Targaryen died in the fires that consumed the Red Keep in 283AL and Loreza Nymeros Martell was born again from its ashes. She remembers what it means to know Fire and Blood and yet she remains;

Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think?
> 
> Elia Martell/Brandon Stark? Yay or nay?


	23. Not a chapter

So I have a Doran chapter written that I was hoping to post this coming weekend. (Brace yourselves any Dorne fans cause this one might hurt). But who would you rather read next? Elia, Brandon or Jaime?

I know I had asked for suggestions before and went completely left wing with my Rhaenys/Loreza chapter (hopefully a decision that didn't disappoint anyone) but I'm at a cross road with who to write next and it's rather frustrating so please leave your thoughts in comments.

Thank you again to everyone who has been reading, will be posting again soon :)


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